The transformation began immediately.

Ash materialized a detailed map from somewhere in her belongings—not the standard trade route chart that merchants used, but a cartographer's survey complete with elevation markers, seasonal water sources, and terrain annotations in three different hands.

"The main road curves north around Millbrook's farmlands," she explained, tracing the route with one finger. "A direct path through the Thornfield passes cuts seven miles off the distance and avoids the steepest grades."

Crestwell studied the map with growing interest. "That route crosses private land."

"Public right-of-way," Ash corrected. "Established during the Merchant Wars but abandoned when the main road offered better amenities. Still legally valid."

"You're certain?"

"I memorized the regional trade compendium," Ash replied matter-of-factly. "All seventeen volumes."

Meanwhile, Cinder had begun what could charitably be called 'logistics analysis' and more accurately be described as 'aggressive efficiency intervention.' She prowled the length of the caravan, timing everything from oxen yoke adjustments to cargo net securing.

"Fifteen minutes to unload one wagon for inspection," she announced. "Henderson's using a sequential method—one crate at a time, in order. A parallel approach would cut that to six minutes."

"We've always done it this way," Henderson protested, a weathered man whose relationship with change resembled oil's relationship with water.

"And now you'll do it better," Cinder replied with the sort of smile that brooked no argument. "Load order needs to be reversed as well. Things you need less often go on last, so you're not moving other crates to reach them."

"This ain't my first wagon job, missy," Henderson began hotly.

Cinder cut him off with a wag of her finger. "And when this is all over, you can run caravans any way you like. Right now, you're under our expert care."

Pyra had commandeered the oxen situation. She approached the lead team—four massive brown oxen whose expressions suggested they'd rather be anywhere else—and began what could only be described as motivational speaking.

"Listen up, you magnificent beasts," she declared, positioning herself where all the oxen could see her. "You're stronger than horses, smarter than mules, and more reliable than magical transport. But right now, you're moving like you're carrying the weight of the world instead of some merchant's fancy fabrics."

The oxen stared at her with the sort of patient attention usually reserved for weather patterns.

"Here's the deal," Pyra continued, her voice taking on the tone of a coach addressing her team. "We're going to make this journey easier for you. Better road surface, optimal rest periods, and premium treatment. In exchange, you give us your best effort. Sound fair?"

One of the oxen—a particularly large bull with one broken horn—uttered a low rumble that might have been agreement or indigestion.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Ember and Kindle had already vanished ahead of the caravan, moving at speeds that reduced them to heat shimmers in the distance. Their mission was simple in concept, complex in execution: eliminate every potential delay between their current position and the evening's destination.

The first obstacle was a washout from recent rains that had carved a two-foot gully across the road. Standard procedure would involve a time-consuming detour. Ember's solution involved redirecting the water flow while Kindle packed the gully with stones scavenged from nearby.

The second obstacle was a fallen tree that blocked the shortcut route Ash had identified. This one was easy, at least for them: two precise flame blades later, the log had been converted into portable firewood for the evening's campsite.

The third obstacle was a group of bandits camped near a narrow pass, clearly intending to ambush the next caravan to come through. Their weapons were crude, their armor motley, and their plans disorganized.

They didn't stand a chance.

Back with the caravan, the optimizations were already showing results.

Ash's route changes had eliminated three unnecessary hills and a notorious bottleneck where the main road squeezed between two rocky outcroppings. The new path followed natural contours that made pulling easier for the oxen and reduced wear on the wagon wheels.

Cinder's logistics improvements had streamlined every aspect of caravan operation. Rest stops that previously required twenty minutes now took eight. Cargo loading that had consumed entire hours now happened in synchronized bursts of activity that left Henderson muttering about "newfangled efficiency nonsense" while secretly timing everything to see if he could match their pace.

Pyra's oxen motivation program had produced the most dramatic results. The animals were actually walking with purpose now, heads up, moving at a pace that qualified as 'brisk' rather than 'barely perceptible.'

She'd enlisted Kindle's help to provide targeted warmth for sore muscles during rest stops, creating a kind of mobile oxen spa treatment. The lead team seemed grateful for the attention; their pace increased markedly after each session.

"This is remarkable," Crestwell admitted as they paused for what should have been the third rest stop of the day but was actually the first because they'd been making such good time. "We've covered more distance this morning than we typically manage in a full day."

"And we're just getting started," Pyra replied cheerfully. "Wait until we implement the advanced optimizations."

"There are advanced optimizations?"

"Oh yes," Ash said, consulting notes she'd been taking throughout the morning. "This was merely the baseline efficiency improvement. Stage two involves predictive logistics and dynamic route optimization."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"We start thinking three moves ahead," Cinder explained. "Instead of reacting to problems, we anticipate them. Instead of following a fixed route, we adapt based on real-time conditions."

"For example," Kindle continued, "Ember and I scouted fifteen miles ahead this morning. There's a merchant caravan about four hours behind us on the main road, and another three hours ahead of us. Bridge traffic at Millbrook Ford will be congested between noon and sunset."

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

"So we adjust our route and timing to avoid the bottleneck entirely," Ember finished, returning from her latest scouting run with Kindle. "Cross at the shallow ford instead, arrive during the lunch lull when traffic is minimal."

"You can predict traffic patterns?" Crestwell asked.

"Basic logistics analysis," Ash replied. "Most caravans follow predictable schedules based on departure times and standard travel rates. Simple mathematics."

What they didn't mention was that Ember and Kindle had also encountered two more groups of potential bandits, a broken bridge that would have delayed them by hours, and a territorial dispute between two merchant guilds that was blocking a key crossroads. All problems that had been quietly resolved before they could affect the caravan.

The afternoon brought the first test of their optimization protocols.

They reached Millbrook Ford to find exactly the congestion Kindle had predicted—six caravans backed up on both sides of the river, with wagons taking turns crossing the narrow stone bridge while teamsters argued about right-of-way and priority scheduling.

"Standard approach would put us in that queue for two hours minimum," Crestwell observed.

"Good thing we're not using the standard approach," Cinder replied.

Ash guided them to the shallow ford she'd identified on her maps—a crossing point half a mile upstream that was marked as seasonal but currently quite usable. The water reached only to the oxen's knees, the bottom was solid stone, and the approach on both sides was clear.

They crossed without delay while other caravans waited in the bridge queue.

"How did you know that ford would be passable?" Crestwell asked as they established their lead over the competition.

"Water tables, seasonal precipitation patterns, and geological survey data," Ash replied. "The shallow crossing is optimal during late summer when groundwater levels drop. Most merchants avoid it because they rely on outdated information."

"Plus," Pyra added, "we checked it this morning. Always verify your optimizations in person."

By evening, they had covered nearly twenty-five miles—more than double the standard daily travel distance. The oxen were tired but not exhausted, the cargo was secure, and Master Crestwell was making increasingly excited notes in his ledger.

"At this pace," he calculated, "we could reach Mirra in three days instead of six."

"Two and a half if we implement stage three optimizations," Cinder corrected.

"There's a stage three?"

"Night travel," Kindle explained. "The oxen can maintain a steady pace in darkness if the route is prepared properly. We could cover another eight to ten miles after sunset."

"Night travel is dangerous," Henderson objected. "Bandits, wild animals, navigation errors—"

"Only if you're traveling blind," Ember replied. "We've scouted the entire route. Every potential hazard has been identified and addressed."

Crestwell listened to this exchange with the expression of someone watching his entire understanding of commerce undergo rapid revision. "Three days," he repeated. "Half the travel time, half the expenses, double the delivery speed."

"The commercial implications are substantial," Ash agreed. "Reduced labor costs, decreased spoilage, improved customer satisfaction, competitive advantage in time-sensitive markets."

"We could revolutionize freight delivery," Crestwell murmured, his merchant instincts fully engaged. "Charge premium rates for guaranteed express service."

The five sister-selves exchanged glances. They'd intended to optimize one escort mission, not accidentally invent a new transportation industry.

"Perhaps we should focus on completing this contract first," Ember suggested diplomatically.

"Of course, of course," Crestwell agreed, though his eyes held the gleam of someone already calculating profit margins. "But the potential..."

Their camp that evening drew attention from other travelers. Word had spread among the caravans about the group that had somehow covered two days' distance in one, and more than a few curious travelers wandered over to see what was happening.

"I heard they ran off three bands of raiders single-handedly," one said. "They were like fiery windstorms, the way I heard it."

"Not what I heard," a second interjected. "I'm told they were more like dancing fire spirits, drifting among the traders and guards, whispering secrets to one another."

"Flying they was," a third added. "Up and down the trade road, faster than should've been possible. All the bandit groups are in hiding, they say."

"We should hire them for all our contracts," the first insisted. "No bandit'd dare to interfere with our affairs."

Cinder overheard the conversation and snickered.

"What's funny?" Ember asked.

"They've already started the embellishments," she replied. "Two days of efficient transportation and they'll be calling us gods."

Ember shrugged. "Well, it does feel good to use our abilities again, without all the speed limits."

"Excuse me," called a merchant from a nearby camp, approaching their fire with the cautious respect reserved for people who might be either geniuses or dangerously insane. "I heard you made it from Amaranth to Millbrook in a single day. Is that true?"

"We experienced favorable conditions," Ember replied carefully.

"And efficient logistics management," Ash added.

"What kind of logistics management covers twenty-five miles with loaded wagons?"

The sisters looked at each other, realizing they'd created exactly the kind of attention they'd hoped to avoid.

"Trade secrets," Cinder said finally. "Professional methodologies."

"But you're adventurers, not merchants."

"We're adaptable," Pyra replied with her most innocent smile.

The visiting merchant left their camp with more questions than answers, but within an hour, representatives from three other caravans had found excuses to stop by. Each wanted to know about routes, timing, oxen management, and cargo optimization. Each received polite but vague responses about "innovative approaches" and "alternative methodologies."

"We're becoming famous," Kindle observed as the last curious visitor departed.

"Infamous, more likely," Cinder corrected. "Tomorrow every caravan on this route will be trying to figure out what we did."

"It's not like what we're doing is that complex," Pyra said. "It's all basic optimization principles. Right, Ash?"

"Correct. We've simply applied logical problem-solving techniques to the existing challenges. Any adequately skilled team could achieve similar results."

"Except for the scouting and bandit removal and path clearing," Ember pointed out. "We do have certain advantages there."

"The fundamental concepts can still be adapted," Ash insisted. "Even merchants and guard teams could modify their approach for significant improvements. It's just that they've never considered alternative methodologies before now."

Kindle shot her a glance. "So we're starting a new trend?"

"Almost certainly," Ash replied, stretching out beneath a blanket. "Whether good or bad remains to be seen."

"The question is whether Crestwell will want to make this a regular arrangement," Ember said, glancing toward the merchant's wagon where Crestwell was furiously writing letters by lamplight.

"He's already composing business proposals," Pyra observed. "I can see the excitement from here."

"This was supposed to be a simple escort mission," Ember sighed.

"Nothing we do is ever simple," Cinder pointed out. "We should have learned that by now."

"At least it's not boring anymore," Kindle said.

They settled into their watch rotation, but sleep proved elusive. Around them, the sounds of the evening camp gradually faded, replaced by the night sounds of the countryside. Other caravans had posted guards and banked their fires. The road ahead stretched into darkness.

And in that darkness, Ember and Kindle had already begun scouting tomorrow's route, clearing obstacles and mapping optimizations that would make their second day even more efficient than their first.

The speed run was just getting started.

"You know," Pyra said quietly, staring up at the stars while Cinder maintained first watch, "we might have just changed how freight delivery works in this entire region."

"Accidentally," Ash emphasized.

"Is that good or bad?"

"Probably both," Ember replied. "Like everything else we do."

"But definitely not boring," Kindle added.

"Never boring," they agreed in unison.

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