Of course, Prof knew that for some time already – more precisely, since he arrived on Arkadia. If he were in a game or a story, he probably wouldn’t have had to fight Bureaucracy every other day, but would be already Level fivezillion, most likely with awesome cheat powers, multiple harems, and would have conquered a country or two. Naturally to bring superior Earth values to the ignorant masses.


    Oh, and would have been able to drive at a high speed on congested medieval roads, despite never ever having seen a hogwagon.


    “I do understand, the rulebook is for a game, but it has to be grounded in reality! I checked and re-checked, and it does have more, than a passing relationship with reality!”


    “The reality is, Prof, that you suck at driving.” Mini countered “29% is barely enough to keep the wagon rolling in a vaguely straight line. Like you do it right now.”


    Indeed, the left wheels were dangerously close to the shoulder – while Greenskins had a keep-right rule. Prof corrected the direction, and almost left the road on the right side.


    “See? Arkadia measures your Skills in an objective and absolute way. If you suck at something, your Character Parchment will tell you so in no uncertain way. Watch out! You almost ran poor Binky over! Having a Skill at markedly below 50% means, you suck.”


    “But the math…”


    “Shush! 54% in [Mathematics] isn''t that high either, so stop trying to calculate the fifteenth digit of Zam. You can try to bend the rules or invoke math, but if you suck, you will still suck. The game rules were made for a simulation – and everyone knows, if you suck, you suck. Suck in the morning, suck in the evening, suck every time you try to drive a wagon. Talking about sucking…"


    “NO!”


    “Misssster watch road! No sssssucking while driving!”


    “Can I at least say suck a few more times? The target would be forty-six times in less, than four minutes!”


    “Why those numbers? On second thought, no. I don’t wanna know!”


    “Your loss. So back to driving!”


    “Yes?”


    “Keep trying to not do it attentively! Watch me, not the road! You almost drove off the bridge! And barely missed that pedestrian! Back up, and run him over correctly!”


    Mini was probably the worst driving instructor in all the multiverses. She probably had immense fun, watching Prof being an awful driver. Having fun was the most important thing, wasn''t it?


    On the other hand, Prof started to have a dreadful idea: there were… truckloads… of stories, where the future Main Character was flattened by a passing truck. What if the bureau responsible for that kind of stuff just outsourced the driving to random Central (or Eastern) European guys? Maybe give them a teacher like Mini, and the job was done by itself.


    Anyways, driving the medieval RV was harder, than Prof thought. Especially with an absolutely terrified Kobold riding shotgun (or was it riding crossbow?), and a crazy Vampire giving constant commentary. And telling him, how much he sucked.


    It was almost like home, with his girlfriend’s mother supplying the commentary. She probably would have made a splendid Vampire on Arkadia.


    Luckily, the road was almost empty all day, and the few travelers could safely – and in panic – clear the way for a maniac, driving a beaten-up carriage. Greenskins were excellent that way.


    Well, or they didn’t want a collision to happen.


    While Prof concentrated on driving in a marginally straight line, and not hitting random obstacles on the road, like turns, bridges, trees, ditches, other travelers, or… basically anything, he had to conclude one very important thing.


    He was bad at driving.


    Not the kind of driving, North-Western Europeans considered bad driving, and which was common in Central Europe, but the kind of driving even someone from the Balkans regarded as retarded. No, even those drivers would consider the thing, Prof was doing as underwhelming.


    However, his new addition to mobility was still immensely more comfortable, than walking.


    Of course, driving had its bad parts too. If a driver paid more attention to charming sights, like mountains, castles, meadows, or roadside hookers, it was almost guaranteed he rear-ended someone else. While there wasn''t much traffic (or roadside pleasure providers) on the road, Prof was still too bad at driving to split his attention. The Hogs had a will on their own and were perfectly willing to investigate interesting things (mostly food) on the roadside. Or don''t care about pedestrians or other carts.


    Anyways, Prof now had a self-propelled tent! No more camping in the open (without tents, mind you), no more sleeping on the hard ground (mostly without even bedrolls)! Just park somewhere, unhitch the hogs, give them anything organic to devour, and have a nice, relaxing night.


    It was just this, what Prof did in the evening. There wasn’t even a need to post guards for the night: if some bandits managed to survive the excellent Greenskin countryside security, the party still had two carnivorous mounts and two omnivorous things, that may or may not have a relation to common swine. If anyone managed to rob them after all that, they were welcome to the loot.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    Well, and Sharpclaw was a Light Sleeper.


    Prof was fairly certain if any bandits tried to rob the sleeping party, they would be able to improve their monetary situation by looting the corpses. The not-munched-on-remains of the corpses, anyways.


    He was actually right.


    Not in getting rich by plundering the corpses of random evil-doers – those who tended to not bring their previous loot to their next heist – but in no one disturbing their rest. It was somewhat strange, as far as Prof knew, that rural highways were riddled with bandits of opportunity in medieval times.


    However, neither the Elves nor the Greenskins had any problems with volunteer toll collectors. The Elves he could understand, those folks probably fined any bandit for unlawful… something or other, just before and after they kicked their teeth in.


    Greenskins on the other hand… Well, the social strata, which tended to pursue a career as criminals, was mostly un-excellent in Greenskinian understanding, and so were put into re-education brigades somewhere in a mine or a sewer.


    Or was gainfully employed by the Thieves’ not-Guild.


    Obviously, robbing travelers on the road was also considered as being un-excellent. Who would have thought?


    In the next few days, Prof managed to get the hang of driving – or more precisely, figured out the bad habits of his Hogs and how to mitigate them. At least somewhat. While he still used the whole breadth of the road (much to the chagrin of other road users), he managed to do so in a … more… calculable way. No sudden swerving, changing lanes, or skidding anymore!


    Well, only once or twice every kilometer or so.


    Also, he got directions to scenic places from a very nice Greenskin Army patrol. After he almost ran the squad over and was asked a few pointed questions about his mother''s sexual preferences. And after Mini stopped laughing, Sharpclaw stopped vomiting (she somehow got motion sickness, despite it not showing up on her Character Parchment as a Perk), and the squad leader stopped chewing out the most loud- (and foul)-) mouthed grunt (obviously, it was considered un-excellent to make assumptions about the parentage of random travelers).


    At least Prof learned a few new curse words and phrases – turning yellow and growing a beard were considered grave insults for some reason. “Wear red on parade day” Prof could figure out on his own. It was very important to know the local culture!


    The patrol actually had a map with it, and with Prof’s Mental Map, he was more or less good up to Ostwaldland''s Southern border. He was even able to make annotations to certain places, the patrol said were worth stopping for.


    For some strange reason, they repeated the need to stop there, not just giving a few glances while driving.


    Prof actually agreed with that. Lovely places had to be enjoyed in peace, and trying to get pedestrians out of Hogs was… pieceful, and quite dirty endeavor.


    Not long after noon, they reached to first point of interest – a gorge and a waterfall. Prof was used to similar places being overpopulated by hordes of tourists, all trying to get that one picture while hindering everyone else from at least seeing the sight; and of course, the strategically placed tourist traps, selling local overpriced specialties (sourced from the nearest supermarket) and souvenirs. Not to forget a booth or two, where you had to pay for parking and visiting the site. And probably the toilet.


    Nothing of the above was present at or near the outlook, Prof parked his wagon. Well, it wasn’t parked at the exact place, he wanted to leave it, but the Hogs found something interesting a few dozen meters away. Prof decided, the place the Hogs found was as good as his original idea – with his extremely high Agility and Dexterity walking a little bit wasn’t going to kill him.


    In contrast to trying to wrangle the Hogs back where he wanted to park. Walking back took less time too.


    At least the Greenskins were excellent enough to place a table and two benches next to the best viewing point.


    The gorge itself was straight for at least half a kilometer in both directions, with smooth walls – almost as if some primordial demigod decided, this was the best place to split the world in half and got bored just after the first swing. The waterfall wasn''t situated on one end of the gorge, but spilled crystal-clear water from the opposite side of the canyon, directly across the camping site.


    Despite it being early fall, the botany all around the waterfall was still of lush green, interspersed with some blues and purples, discreetly shrouded by the waterfall''s haze.


    This was what Prof wanted all the time, he spent on Arkadia: a beautiful sight, he could just sit and watch, without any urgent tasks, like finding some terrorists, who had killed off a respected Clan of xenophobic and unhinged Elves. Or bringing Mythrill to the masses. Or anything else, he was doing the past months.


    After the small meadow by his first dungeon and maybe the mountain over Deadbranch, this was the first time, he could lay back, and be filled up with… energy? Peace? Content?


    He took a sip from a jug of beer, he brought just for this.


    “Missssster! NO!”


    “What it is, Sharpclaw? Danger?”


    “Misssster drivesss crazzzzy even sssssober! No drinksssss!”


    “Oh, come on, little one! What could possibly go wrong?” at least Mini was on his side! Not, that the constabulary was waiting in the bushes with a breathalyzer! And everyone on the road already evaded him by a large margin.


    Well, and he doubted very much, the Greenskins had any rules against driving under the influence. If he was still in the Domain, it would be another thing – those Elves would probably fine him for a busted taillight or a too-old medical kit. The wagon didn''t have either…


    So, if something wasn’t forbidden, it was legal to do it, no matter how moronic it was, right?


    Especially, if it could be considered fun, no?


    Prof realized Mini started to rub off on him – that way lay madness. With a heavy heart, he replaced the jug and drank a small amount of anti-poison potion just to be sure. With his poison-neutralizing trinket, he was on the safe side anyway, but it certainly wasn''t a bad idea.


    Glancing back at the gorge, he regretted, he still wasn’t able to put Skill Point into making famous paintings.