TALENT BEYOND LIMIT: Stacking Many Talents

The first three days east of Blackwood were disappointingly safe.

Joe considered that a good thing.

The caravan moved slowly enough that a determined pedestrian could keep pace for much of the day. The freight wagons dictated the speed. Whenever the road climbed, hired workers walked beside the wheels while drivers managed the animals. Whenever it descended, everyone complained about the mud.

The countryside changed gradually.

Blackwood’s forest thinned into cultivated valleys.

Villages appeared more often, followed by larger market settlements.

A village with thirty houses became one with sixty. Packed-earth roads acquired stone drainage. Wooden bridges were replaced by masonry. The next settlement had a dedicated medicine shop instead of a healer working from home.

The small differences accumulated.

By the fourth day, Joe understood that Blackwood had always been part of the larger world.

It was simply not an especially important part of it.

The caravan’s two senior supervisors rarely spoke to passengers.

Joe learned their names anyway.

The older one was Brann Kester, a thick-bodied man in his forties with graying hair and controlled movements that wasted little effort.

Joe estimated him at Late Bone.

He had enough experience now to make that judgment with reasonable confidence.

The second supervisor was Master Ilan Vey.

Nobody called him merely Ilan.

Joe noticed that before he noticed anything about the man’s cultivation.

Vey looked younger than Brann, perhaps in his mid-thirties. He was lean, plainly dressed and spent most days appearing uninterested in everyone around him.

Joe watched him dismount once.

There was something different about the movement.

It was not obvious strength.

His body was simply more controlled than that of a Bone practitioner.

Joe remembered Theodere’s lesson.

An Jin.

A true Martial Artist.

Vey was probably in the early Internal Organ realm.

That made the caravan’s confidence easier to understand.

One true Martial Artist and one veteran Late Bone practitioner travelled with more than a dozen ordinary hired guards and several lower-ranked martial artists.

For most roads, that would have been excessive.

For Greyspine, it appeared to be normal.

Joe shared the passenger wagon with people who became familiar through repeated days of travel.

The spice merchant was named Perrin and snored whenever the wagon moved smoothly.

The woman with the young boy was travelling to relatives outside Ashbourne.

The toolmaker’s apprentice, Hal, spent half his time worrying that the vibration would damage his locked cases.

The elderly couple argued every evening over tea and every morning over whose fault it was that they had slept badly.

Joe liked them more after realizing that none of them wanted anything from him.

That was refreshing.

Hal eventually asked what Joe did.

”Medicine.”

”You look too young.”

”I started early.”

”Apprentice?”

”Something close to that.”

That answer prevented most of the questions Joe expected.

Hal still had one more.

”And martial arts?”

”Some.”

Hal examined Joe’s build.

”Muscle?”

”Completion.”

That impressed him.

It also settled one of Joe’s concerns.

His official assessment did not sound suspiciously weak outside Blackwood.

Muscle Completion at eighteen was good.

It was not unbelievable.

That was exactly where Joe wanted to remain publicly.

The eight-silver followers travelled under different conditions.

They woke earlier because they had to pack their own camps.

They cooked separately.

Some walked.

Others rode mules or small carts.

When rain arrived on the fifth afternoon, Joe remained beneath the passenger wagon’s canvas while several follower families covered their possessions with patched oilcloth and continued through the rain.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

They had paid less, and they received less.

There was no deception in the arrangement.

Joe still noticed who became wet.

At the evening camp, one follower approached a clerk and asked whether he could upgrade before Greyspine.

”How many?”

”Three.”

”Three people?”

”Me, my wife and daughter.”

”Another one hundred twenty silver for protected passage.”

The man’s expression changed.

He had misunderstood the price.

”From follower passage?”

The clerk nodded.

”You paid twenty-four total. Protected passage is forty-eight each.”

The man walked away.

Joe watched him leave.

Twenty-four silver had probably already been difficult for the family.

Another one hundred twenty was beyond them.

The caravan would still allow them to follow.

They would receive general protection.

They would not receive priority protection.

The distinction sounded minor until danger appeared.

Stonegate appeared on the seventh afternoon.

Joe saw the walls first.

They rose from the landscape in old gray lines. They were broader than Blackwood’s defensive structures and high enough that the road followed them for several minutes before reaching the eastern gate.

The city had earned its name honestly.

Stone towers interrupted the wall at regular intervals. Heavy gates stood open beneath an arched entryway wide enough for two wagons to pass side by side.

The caravan slowed.

Traffic thickened immediately.

Farm carts, merchant wagons, mounted messengers and travellers waiting for inspection crowded the road while uniformed city guards directed the lines.

Joe leaned slightly from the wagon.

Stonegate felt older than Blackwood.

It did not feel poorer.

Its defenses dominated the city’s identity.

Inside the gate, buildings stood closer together than Joe expected. Stone lower floors supported timber upper levels. Narrow streets twisted between inns, smithies, warehouses and workshops. Roof signs hung above storefronts because carts frequently blocked ground-level views.

Hal stared at the city too.

”First time?”

”Yes.”

”I came through once.”

”You sound proud.”

”I was twelve.”

Joe nodded.

”Then it must have been memorable.”

Hal looked at him for a moment before realizing Joe was teasing him.

The caravan occupied nearly half the courtyard of a large eastern inn.

They would remain for one night.

The wagons needed resupply and repairs before departure shortly after sunrise.

Joe left his luggage under guard and walked through the city.

Stonegate rewarded exploration.

The city contained many things Blackwood possessed, but in much greater quantity.

Joe passed three medicine shops on one street, a building devoted entirely to martial equipment, two public bathhouses within several blocks and a bookseller whose front window displayed more bound manuals than Blackwood’s guard library possessed altogether.

Joe remained outside the bookseller longest.

He did not buy anything.

Not yet.

Prices were already higher than they had been in Blackwood.

A basic anatomical volume he recognized from Edwin’s workshop cost nearly twice as much.

Transport explained part of the difference.

Demand probably explained the rest.

Ashbourne City would likely be more expensive.

Mike’s advice returned to him.

Watch your money.

Joseph’s addition followed.

Especially around people with clean shoes.

Joe smiled and continued walking.

He also noticed a difference in martial cultivation.

In Blackwood, someone openly at Bone drew attention.

In Stonegate, Joe saw three probable Bone practitioners in less than an hour.

One entered a merchant house accompanied by two guards.

Another supervised unloading outside an herb warehouse.

The third was arguing about the price of horse feed.

That helped place martial strength in perspective.

Power did not remove ordinary problems.

Strong people still had to deal with prices, work and inconvenience.

Internal Organ practitioners remained rare enough that Joe noticed no obvious true Martial Artist besides Vey.

That seemed reasonable.

Stonegate was a proper city.

It was still not the state capital.

At sunset, the caravan master gathered passengers and followers in the inn courtyard.

Brann stood beside him.

Vey remained slightly behind with his arms folded.

”Greyspine begins tomorrow afternoon,” the caravan master announced.

The courtyard quieted.

”Road conditions are currently passable. Two merchant groups crossed west six days ago without major incident.”

Joe noticed the wording.

Without major incident.

”Protected passage upgrades close at departure tomorrow. If you upgrade, report to the clerk tonight. Protected travellers move into the inner formation before the mountain road.”

Someone asked, ”What about standard passengers?”

”You remain with the passenger wagons in the main formation.”

”And followers?”

”Stay within sight of the marked convoy line. Follow guard instructions immediately.”

Another voice called out.

”What happens if there’s an attack?”

Brann answered this time.

”If there’s an attack, don’t try to become clever.”

A few people laughed nervously.

Brann did not.

”Move where you’re told. Do not run into the forest unless remaining on the road is clearly more dangerous. Do not chase animals. Do not stop for dropped property.”

His gaze moved across the crowd.

”And if Master Vey tells you to run, run.”

Nobody laughed at that.

Joe looked toward the true Martial Artist.

Vey appeared bored.

The warning was probably routine.

The upgrade line formed immediately afterward.

For wealthier travellers, fear reduced the importance of another twenty-four silver.

Perrin upgraded.

The elderly couple upgraded after arguing for seven minutes.

The woman travelling with the child upgraded as well.

Hal stared at the clerk’s table for a long time before joining the line.

”You aren’t upgrading?” he asked Joe.

”No.”

Hal looked confused.

”You can afford it.”

”Yes.”

”Then why not?”

Joe considered giving him the true answer.

The people being paid to prioritize him would probably slow him down if danger became serious.

Instead, he said, ”I’d rather keep the silver.”

Hal stared at him.

”Twenty-four silver isn’t worth dying over.”

”I agree.”

That confused him further.

Joe left the matter there.

Later, Joe found Perrin drinking tea near the inn gate.

The spice merchant gestured toward the crowded courtyard.

”First Greyspine crossing?”

”Yes.”

”You should upgrade.”

”Everyone keeps telling me that.”

Perrin lowered his voice.

”The caravan companies handle this cleverly.”

Joe looked at him.

”How?”

”They price basic passage low enough to fill the route. Then everyone reaches Stonegate, sees the mountains and pays more.”

Joe had already considered the possibility.

”Does the danger justify the price?”

Perrin shrugged.

”Usually nothing happens.”

”Then the upgrade is unnecessary.”

”Until something does happen.”

Joe looked toward the inner courtyard, where clerks were marking protected passengers with colored travel tags.

”Do the companies deliberately frighten people?”

”Of course.”

Perrin smiled.

”Fear is excellent business.”

Joe remembered that.

It proved nothing by itself.

It did reveal an incentive.

They left Stonegate shortly after sunrise.

The walls remained beside them for nearly a mile before the road bent southeast.

Then the farms returned.

The hills followed.

By midday, the terrain rose sharply.

The road narrowed between wooded slopes.

Traffic thinned.

Settlements became smaller.

The caravan changed with the terrain.

Brann rode closer to the center.

Vey moved to the front.

The ordinary guards spoke less.

Protected travellers were reorganized into two central wagons and several marked carts.

Standard passengers remained around them.

Followers stretched farther along the formation.

Joe noticed the family of three from the earlier camp.

They were still outside the protected section and still walking.

The father kept looking toward the central wagons.

Twenty-four silver had bought his family access to the road.

Another one hundred twenty would have bought them proximity to the strongest guards.

The same advantage appeared again.

Even danger had pricing tiers.

Greyspine rose ahead by afternoon.

It was not a single mountain.

The region contained broken ridges, forested slopes, exposed gray rock and narrow valleys extending into the distance.

Joe watched from the wagon.

The road entering the mountains looked ordinary.

That did not make it safe.

A dangerous place did not need obvious signs announcing the danger.

According to the caravan master’s estimate, they still had several days before reaching the worst section.

Joe believed him.

Even so, he changed how he packed that evening.

His documents remained close.

His money stayed divided between several places.

He moved his medicine where he could reach it quickly.

He still did not upgrade his passage.

Instead, he watched Brann inspect the perimeter while Master Vey stood alone near the road and looked toward the darkening ridges.

For the first time since leaving Blackwood, Joe felt something he had almost missed.

There was uncertainty ahead.

He was not afraid.

He simply did not know what the road would bring.

Somewhere beyond the first Greyspine ridge, the journey would stop being routine.

Joe finished preparing his belongings and went to sleep.