Exploring Technology in a Wizard World-Chapter 208 - 207: I won’t eat a single orange, I’ll leave them all for you, as long as you’re happy

Chapter 208 -207: I won’t eat a single orange, I’ll leave them all for you, as long as you’re happy

Macbeth returned after a while, not with the oranges that Richard had been somewhat worried about, but with horses—four horses, their reins in Macbeth’s hands.

Walking up to Richard, Nancy, and Raymond, Macbeth spoke, “Don’t tell me any of you three can’t ride a horse, because if that’s the case, I’ll have to tie you to one.”

All three shook their heads simultaneously in response.

“All of you can ride?” Macbeth raised his eyebrows, nodding in satisfaction, “That’s very good then.”

As he spoke, Macbeth handed the reins to the three of them and led the way forward. While walking, something crossed his mind, and he mentioned aloud, “Right, if you have to answer questions from the people on this island later, you’d better not nod or shake your head. If you really need to answer, you should also reverse the meanings of your nods and shakes.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s because on this island people interpret nodding and shaking heads the opposite way—here, nodding means ‘no’ and shaking your head means ‘yes’. Don’t ask me why it’s this way, I don’t know either. The world is so vast, all kinds of oddities exist.”

“Uh…” Everyone nodded, signifying they understood.

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The group conversed as they walked out of the port, and under Macbeth’s lead, they mounted their horses and galloped into the depths of the island.

“Clip-clop, clip-clop…”

…

To call it an island was an understatement; “Lisben” island was so vast it seemed less an island and more like a small chunk of land. The party galloped all day long, covering several hundred miles, changing horses several times, and finally, they arrived at the border between one country and another on the island in the middle of the night.

There weren’t many soldiers guarding the border, but there were plenty of sentry posts.

Right now, a hundred meters in front of them, there was a sentry post, positioned where one must pass through a mountain valley.

In the night, the silhouette of the sentry post resembled a lighthouse, though much shorter, merely a simple two-story structure. At that moment, the top layer was lit up, dimly revealing the sounds of soldiers patrolling and talking.

“Master Wizard Macbeth, are we just going to go over there?” Nancy looked at Macbeth and asked softly, “Won’t there be identity checks?”

“Hmm—” Macbeth halted his horse and stared at the sentry post, furrowing his brows, whispering, “The checks are definitely going to happen. The country we’re heading to has always been strict about border control. Originally, I planned to enter through a weaker part of their border—last time I was here, there was no sentry post, who knew they would’ve built one so quickly.”

While speaking, Macbeth’s eyes sharpened, and he said to Richard, Nancy, and Raymond, “But it doesn’t matter, I’ll deal with them. And… you just stay right here, don’t move around.”

“Uh,” Nancy and Raymond responded.

Richard went, “…”

Macbeth, unaware of Richard’s odd expression, swiftly rode toward the sentry post.

In the darkness, Richard, Nancy, and Raymond soon heard the sentry’s challenge echoing, “Who goes there? Do you have a pass? Dismount and submit to an inspection, or else…”

“Ah!”

The sentry’s commanding voice quickly turned into a scream.

The next moment, a cacophony of sentries assembling could be heard.

“Enemy presence!”

“Ambush!”

“To arms!”

“Attack!”

Then came…

“Aaaargh!”

Screams filled the air, turning the night tumultuous, but quickly it fell silent again.

“Clip-clop, clip-clop,” the sound of horse hooves approached; Macbeth rode back from the darkness, his body not stained with a single drop of blood, and stopped in front of the group.

As he wiped his hands with a clean white handkerchief, he addressed the others, “Alright, the watchpost no longer exists, we can leave now.”

“Uh…”

Macbeth pulled the reins and turned the horse’s head, galloping at high speed towards the direction where the watchpost had been blockaded, with Richard, Nancy, and Raymond quickly following.

…

In the blink of an eye, it was dusk the next day.

Under the last rays of sunlight on the horizon, Macbeth arrived in a bustling city with the three companions and dismounted in front of an inn.

After handing the horses over to an inn’s stable hand, Macbeth led the way into the inn—The Golden Tangerine Inn.

A new stable hand rushed forward to greet them. Macbeth, without much fuss, scattered a handful of coins and issued quick instructions. The stable hand nodded repeatedly and then scurried off to prepare everything.

Before long, Macbeth led Richard and his companions to a large table in a corner, which was laden with a sumptuous array of food: a plump capon, a sauce-covered smoked duck, freshly stewed meat garnished with vegetables, slightly whitened boiled beans, mushroom soup that looked as creamy as milk, bread that was somewhat hard, but freshly baked and fragrant with the aroma of wheat…

One dish seemed to highlight the inn’s specialty, placed right at the center of the table, a bowl of fruit—tangerines—in some sense, the tangerines that Macbeth had always wanted to buy.

But these tangerines weren’t presented in their normal form; instead, they were peeled and then boiled.

Yes, boiled, and sprinkled with salt and a little bit of spices.

In the current world, much like the medieval era, in the eyes of most people, fruits were regarded as “cooling” food in metaphysical terms; eating them raw was believed to cause illness. They had to be cooked in some way, whether by boiling, baking, or other methods before they could be consumed.

Therefore, tangerines as a fruit, ended up in the bowl as a sticky, orange-colored mush—completely cooked down.

Richard, whose appetite had been decent, saw the tangerines in this form and felt his desire to eat drop by thirty percent. He hadn’t tried them firsthand, but he was well aware of their flavor and thus didn’t even touch the large spoon in the tangerine bowl.

Nancy and Raymond, however, were seeing this food for the first time and tried it out of curiosity, then revealed twisted, odd expressions.

With a “gulp,” they swallowed the tangerine in their mouths and started to drink the mushroom soup voraciously, daring not to recklessly try anything else afterwards.

Macbeth watched their reactions and shook his head, unabashedly scooping up a generous portion of the tangerine sauce onto his plate with a large spoon, and then using a smaller spoon, continued to ferry it to his mouth, his face revealing an expression of enjoyment.

Nancy was speechless: “…”

Raymond felt respect rising within him: the Master Wizard was indeed different, with such a… robust palate.

Richard’s eyes flickered as he thought quietly to himself: I guarantee I won’t touch a single bite of these tangerines, I’ll leave them all to you, enjoy them slowly, as long as you’re happy…

Yes, as long as you’re happy.

…

The dinner continued.

It must be admitted that apart from the tangerines, the rest of the meal was acceptable. Even if the flavors were a bit unusual, they were above the level of mediocrity and were palatable. Macbeth, disguised as a Noble and not short of money, had ordered the most popular dishes from the inn—if even these were inedible, the other patrons in the dining hall would have flipped tables and started complaining by now.

“Sizzle…”

“Tsk, tsk…”

Accompanied by the sounds of teeth colliding and lips touching, the food on the table quickly diminished as the dinner reached its final moments.

Nancy had nearly finished her meal and sipped on the creamy mushroom soup when she looked towards Macbeth, still partaking of the tangerine preserve, and spoke, “Lord Macbeth, there’s something I want to ask you.”

“Hmm?” Macbeth said between bites of the tangerine preserve, appearing quite approachable at that moment, “Speak.”

Lowering her voice cautiously, Nancy asked, “That is… what exactly are we doing here with you?”

At this question, Richard and Raymond turned their gaze towards Macbeth as well, clearly seeking an answer.

Macbeth’s eyebrows twitched slightly.