“I wonder if I can just hire someone to help me with translation. Like help me read when I need to and write when I have to.”
Michael pondered the thought seriously as he soared through the sky on his undead griffin, heading back to the capital.
Before the Dark Age in Aurora, much like on Earth, different cultures had their own languages. Back then, those who needed to travel often relied on native speakers who understood multiple languages to act as translators.
But that no longer existed in Aurora.
Now, everyone spoke the same language.
What fascinated Michael was how eerily similar it was to English. At first glance, it seemed like a perfect replica, but subtle differences existed—variations in structure, phrasing, and even certain words. It was still called “English,” but here, it was known as Aurora English.
If not for the fact that Aurora’s history was clearly different from Earth’s, Michael might have thought he had transmigrated to a parallel version of his own world.
But if that were the case, then Aurora would probably have been named Blue Star instead—just to complete the image.
The thought of culture led Michael to another question—what about the Land of Origin?
Based on his observations, the Land of Origin was still in its early stages of development. No—perhaps calling it “early stages” was the wrong way to put it. This wasn’t some primitive civilization waiting to advance; this was simply their way of life.
If the location he was in resembled a medieval society like Earth’s past, then surely different settlements, tribes, or even entire kingdoms had their own cultures, traditions, and, most importantly, languages.
So, did translators exist there?
If different groups had distinct languages, then someone had to bridge the gap for trade, diplomacy, or even war. Scholars, merchants, or envoys might act as translators. If that were the case, hiring one could be possible.
But how widespread was language diversity?
Michael hadn’t been in the Land of Origin long enough to know for sure, but if it was anything like early civilizations on Earth and Aurora, then different regions should have their own dialects. The problem was, there was no guarantee a single translator would be fluent in all of them.
His ability as an Awakener let him communicate with any being, but that only applied to speech. It didn’t extend to reading and writing.
That meant one thing—he needed to learn the basics himself.
At least he was picking up the tone of the language he spoke in this world, thanks to his high intelligence stat, which boosted his learning capacity and made his accent more natural. But reading and writing? That was beyond him for now.
It was a hassle. He wanted to move freely, communicate, and not rely on someone else’s interpretation, but it seemed he had no choice but to get help.
Even if he found a translator, someone to read and write for him, he couldn’t trust them blindly.
Michael let out a sigh and pushed the thoughts aside for now, urging his griffin to fly faster.
It didn’t take long before he reached the outskirts of the capital, returning to the wilderness not far from where he had taken off.
Upon landing, Michael promptly stored his undead griffin in his storage space, dusted off his clothes with a casual swipe of his hand, and began making his way leisurely toward the outer city gates.
Before long, he merged onto the dirt road leading to the capital, blending into the crowd of travelers heading in the same direction.
As he neared the gates, he reached into his storage and retrieved the token Mage Lian had given him.
This token wasn’t just for access to the outer and inner regions of the capital.
According to Mage Lian, it also served another purpose—if Michael presented it to any of the notable families in the inner city, they would welcome him. More importantly, it was also his means of staying in contact with Mage Lian.
This information made Michael suspect that the money Mage Lian had given him was likely just a short-term convenience, while the token served as a way to secure temporary residence.
“Well, he did say I should contact him in three days so we could establish communication again,” Michael muttered under his breath. “So I’ll end up using this token in the inner city eventually.”
He hadn’t forgotten about his deal with Mage Lian.
More than anything, he was still eager to see the treasure—something powerful enough to influence the soul.
As Michael approached the city gates, he took a moment to observe the crowd around him.
Merchants, travelers, and commoners lined up in an orderly fashion, waiting for the knights to inspect them before granting entry.
A lot of people gazed at him with various expressions but Michael didn’t mind as he was already used to it by now. What made him a little upset was when those around him avoided being too close making him stand out more.
In the end he could only ignore it.
Michael gaze lingered on a group of merchants ahead, their carts packed with goods covered in cloth.
One of them, a middle-aged man with a thick beard, was animatedly discussing something with a knight.
Judging by the body language, it seemed like a routine inspection rather than any kind of trouble.
Michael shifted his attention back to the knights overseeing the entry process.
Their armor gleamed under the midday sun, and their sharp eyes scanned each person carefully.
The guards weren’t overly hostile, but there was a clear sense of discipline in how they worked.
Michael tightened his grip on the token Mage Lian had given him.
This should be enough to grant him access without issue.
When it was finally his turn, a knight stepped forward, scrutinizing him with a professional but firm gaze.
“State your name and purpose for entering the capital,” the knight said, his tone neutral but authoritative.
Michael held up the token. “I’m Mic Nor.”
The knight’s eyes flickered to the token, his expression shifting slightly. He took a closer look before nodding.
“The court token,” the knight muttered under his breath before straightening up. “You may enter Sir.”
The knight spoke in a serious tone that also sounded more respectful than earlier.
Michael gave a small nod and stepped past the gates, leaving the bustling checkpoint behind as he entered the capital.
He walked deeper into the capital.
The sight before him was a familiar one.
Broad streets, lined with vendors selling all kinds of goods, stretched into the distance.
Buildings of varying heights stood on either side.
The outer city had its own air of prosperity, though it was far from extravagant.
As he walked further in, he considered his next move.
First, he needed a place to stay.
While he could probably use the token to secure temporary residence, he didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention just yet.
A simple inn would do for now.
Second, he had to figure out where to begin his search for a guide regarding his quest and task from the hunter guild. Finding a guide was the same thing as finding a translator for reading and writing in Michael’s opinion.
This was something he hoped could be done sooner.
With one task out of the way he could take another one and slowly increase his hunter level which in turn gives him more access to better tasks that’ll provide better quests.
And finally, there was the matter of his deal with Mage Lian. Three days wasn’t a long time. He had to make sure he was prepared when the time came.
As for what preparation he had in mind, it had more to do with the real world.
With a plan forming in his mind, Michael continued walking, his pace steady as he ventured deeper into the city.
Michael took his time exploring the outer city, soaking in the sights and sounds of daily life.
Stalls lined the streets, merchants loudly advertising their wares, and the air carried the mixed scents of fresh bread, spices, and the occasional whiff of livestock.
The buildings here were sturdy but simple—mostly two-story structures made of wood and stone, with signs hanging above doorways marking various shops and inns.
He noted how the crowd density changed as he moved.
The main streets were lively, filled with well-dressed merchants and craftsmen, while the side alleys had a more subdued atmosphere, populated by common laborers and weary travelers.
It was clear that wealth dictated one’s place in the city, just like on Earth.
As he turned down a less crowded path, the scenery shifted subtly.
The well-maintained streets gave way to uneven cobblestones, and the buildings looked older, some with cracks in their stone foundations or wooden beams weathered by time.
The lively chatter of the main streets faded, replaced by murmured conversations and the occasional sharp glance thrown his way.
Michael frowned.
He hadn’t intended to wander, but it seemed he had unknowingly strayed into a rougher part of the city.
A slum-like area.
The signs were clear: fewer street vendors, more people loitering by the walls, watching passersby with wary or calculating expressions.
The scent of fresh bread was replaced with something stale, and the buildings here were in even worse condition—some looked like they were on the verge of collapse.
Michael glanced around, keeping his posture relaxed but his senses sharp. He didn’t feel in danger, not with his abilities, but he also knew better than to act carelessly.
His presence stood out.
His clothes, while not overly extravagant, were too clean, too well-maintained compared to the worn, patched-up garments of the people here.
More than one person had taken notice of him.
Just as he was about to turn back toward the more populated streets, a voice called out.
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