“Awakened!” the guards shouted as Dallion approached the village gates.

It wasn’t difficult to tell. Only an awakened could carry a backpack that size with next to no effort. Dallion expected his presence to create a lot of commotion, potentially even gather a crowd. Nothing of the sort happened.

The massive wooden gates swung aside, allowing him access to the village and… nothing happened. There weren’t crowds of people, far less anyone of importance. It almost felt like Dallion was returning home, to no fanfare.

Hey! You’re an empath! a squeaky voice shouted. It was the voice of a guardian—a dryad most likely based on the intonation. After spending so much time listening to them, Dallion was now able to make out the race of the guardian based on their voice.

Hey to you too, Dallion said, trying to focus on the source of the voice. To his surprise, it turned out not to be part of the village, but the bow of one of the village guards. That was intriguing from multiple aspects. For one thing, the bow was of considerably high quality—south of level twenty, at least. Even in Neorsal, such an item would have cost a pretty penny, despite it being a ranged weapon. Also, it was unusual for an item to be so direct. Most at least waited a while before they got a sense of Dallion.

It's so great to have you here! The guardian went on, ecstatic by the fact. Everyone will be thrilled! And you have cool guardians as well!

This was new. Dallion’s own guardians rarely were a topic of discussion in the past, if at all.

They’re dryads, the armadil shield told Dallion with a sigh. Most of the guardians in the village are dryads.

Dryads? Dallion looked around. While it was true that nearly everything in sight was made of wood, having so many guardians of a single race clustered together was exceedingly rare, to the point it was improbable to occur by accident.

“Welcome to the village of Canopa,” a young woman, barely in her twenties, said. “I’m Lelandra, the village scribe here to assist you during your visit.”

The role of village scribe had long lost its significance, but during the time of Dallion’s grandfather, it was considered key. In a lot of places, it was even regarded as second in importance, right after the mayor. For a scribe to come to the gates and at such short notice, there had to be something going on.

“Dallion, envoy of Nerosal,” Dal introduced himself. “Is it usual for you to assist travelers in such fashion? Especially since you’re an awakened as well?”

Confusion filled Lelandra, ringing loudly in Dallion’s senses like a church bell. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence. On the contrary, it was almost expected. Quickly, the confusion shifted into fear. The woman trembled, unsure whether she had displeased him in some way, yet also terrified of asking in case that made things worse.

“It’s my first time here, so I’m not sure how things are,” Dallion said, subtly adding a bit of calm in his words.

The explanation, combined with his music skill, was enough to make the woman calm down. Offering an apologetic smile, she nodded.

“That is understandable. I’m sure that the village chief will explain everything.” She glanced in the direction of the village center. “Would you accompany me, please?”

“Always happy to,” Dallion said, adding a note of charm in his words, very much to Vihrogon’s encouragement.

Guess you’ll need to go through that, another guardian said. Come chat a bit when you’re done?

Yes! It’s always interesting hearing what’s going on beyond the walls! Yet another chimed in.

I’ll do my best, Dallion replied, while he followed Lelandra. A few guards gave him weird glances, but for the most part the local villagers didn’t seem to pay him any attention.

The two made their way through wide cobble-paved roads—far better maintained than some in Nerosal itself—to the very center of Canopa. Along the way, Dallion noticed several library buildings, each three stories high.

Keep your guard up, Nil said.

Already ahead of you, Dallion replied. If he was suspicious of the village before, now, he was outright ready for an ambush. There were too many oddities stacking up and while each one of them could be explained away with a logical reason, all of them at once made that impossible.

The village chief’s mansion resembled a town hall rather than a mansion. It was four times as big as any other building in the village and bustling with people. Several kept on giving him weird looks, but seeing Lelandra nearby quickly diverted their attention elsewhere. Dallion could tell thanks to his music skills that he had broken some unspoken rule of etiquette. Reaching the massive double doors of the building, Dallion was able to tell exactly what bothered him—the building, the library, the structure of the village itself, all had the markings of a university city.

Stopping for a moment, Dallion looked around. Now that he had grasped the situation, everything fell into place. The village was structured with mathematical precision in three main areas: dorm area, libraries, food storage area, and the village chief’s mansion, which was the administrative building.

“Is anything wrong?” Lelandra asked.

“No, nothing wrong,” Dallion lied. “Just admiring the view. This place seems to be run quite well.”

“The village chief is a perfectionist, as you’ll see,” the woman said with pride. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to explain everything in great detail.”

“I’m sure as well.”

The inside of the building was just as intricate and bureaucratic as Dallion expected. After leaving his backpack in the assigned luggage area, he was led up several staircases, until he reached the fourth floor of the building. Moving along to the large wooden corridor, he was brought to a massive oaken door. Upon reaching it, Lelandra diligently straightened her clothes, took a deep breath, and knocked.

“Scribe Lelandra here with the new awakened,” she said.

There were a few moments of silence, after which the massive door swung open.

“Please,” the woman invited him to enter.

“After you.” Dallion smiled.

“I’m not allowed to enter. The conversation you’re to have is private. I’ll be waiting for you here.”

That explained that. Trying to act as casual as possible, Dallion walked in. The moment he did, the door closed behind him.

“We weren’t expecting a visit until next month,” an old woman seated on a large couch said. While it was difficult to say with certainty, Dallion assumed she was in her sixties, even if she had the appearance of someone in their early forties. It was the eyes that gave her away, aged with experience. Possibly the long curly salt and pepper hair helped as well.

“I’m surprised anyone expected me at all.” Dallion made his way to an armchair closest to her.

The material felt comfortable, created without a doubt, with awakened in mind. The rest of the room was no different. Everything from the thick carpet to the shelves of leather-bound books, to the large bronze devices that decorated the room, were made by people with the appropriate skills.

“Eleria Fall,” the woman introduced herself. “Before we start, I’d just like to make one thing very clear. I don’t care what you’ve heard. I do not need further supervision or interference. It is bad enough that I keep not getting informed of the latest changes. I’ll offer your every courtesy while you’re here, but I expect you to do your job discreetly and be on your way as soon as possible. Nothing personal.”

“Nothing personal taken.” Dallion kept the smile on his face. “Would it help if I said I haven’t heard a thing?”

“How kind.” The woman’s mood soured. “At this stage I think it’s a bit late for—"

“I’ve no idea what this place is,” Dallion interrupted. “The reason I came here is because it was along the path of an avian crackling that’s been causing chaos in the area.”

“You’re not from the Academy?” There was a brief moment of surprise. Dallion could almost feel a few other emotions, because the woman put up her guard, blocking his skill, as if she’d erected a brick wall around herself. “Who are you exactly?”

“Dallion Darude, envoy of Nerosal.”

“You’re Dallion?” Eleria narrowed her eyes, looking him over as if he were a suiter coming to ask for her daughter’s hand in marriage. “Responsible for the whole festival fiasco affair?”

“Pretty much.” No matter where he went, it seemed he couldn’t get rid of that perception of him. “I’m training to be a hunter now, which is why I’m here.”

“Right, right.” The woman leaned back. Her guard remained up, though she was noticeably less confrontational right now. “Well, I guess I must apologize for the confusion. I assumed you were sent to… never mind.”

“No problem. Mistakes happen.” Dallion nodded. “And I’ll be on my way soon enough. I just need a bit of information on the avian.”

“Just information?”

“It’s my task to deal with it.”

Eleria’s glance hardened, as if it were of sky iron. For the first time in a very long while, Dallion felt as if he were somewhere he didn’t belong. It was similar to the time he went to see the overseer. There wasn’t an icy chill, but rather the opposite—Dallion felt as if he were scorched by a flaming sun. The experience only lasted a second, but was enough to remind him of the difference in level between the two.

“I don’t know anything about an avian,” the woman replied. The lie was so obvious that she was virtually acknowledging that she did. “This village is dedicated to spell research. As you know, we don’t meddle in the affairs of the gentile.”

The mage who had warned Dallion not to interfere with the Star definitely had something else in mind. Since the woman knew about the Nerosal incident, she undoubtedly knew of that as well.

“I see. Any suggestions where I should look?”

“I’m sorry.”

That’s it? Dallion wondered. He had expected at least a casual hint or remark that would be of some help. It was impossible that the village hadn’t seen the cracklings. Even if they were using some method to prevent them from attacking, they should have seen them flying overhead.

“I’m sorry too.” Dallion stood up. “I’ll be on my—"

“Have you come across a lot of creatures in the wilderness?” The woman suddenly changed the topic. “As a hunter, I mean.”

“Yeah. I’ve seen a fair amount.”

“Fascinating creatures, every single one of them.” The woman raised her left hand and drew something in the air. Shapes emerged, linking together as a molecule. The entire pattern flashed a deep blue, transforming into a large blue tome. “Please.” The woman grabbed hold of the book before it could fall, offering it to Dallion. “Since you’ve come all this way, I could at least give you this. It’ll be useful for your future exploits.”

The book was heavier than Dallion expected. A normal person would have trouble even carrying it. The only title written with silver letters on the leather cover read “Bestiary.”

“Are you sure?” Dallion hesitated. “I don’t want to take something too valuable.”

“It’s a copy,” Eleria replied, not refuting the fact that it was rare and likely ridiculously expensive. “If that is all, I wish you success in your journey.”

“Thank you. And I hope things get resolved here in your favor.”

It was tempting to ask some of the items for more information, but given how quiet they had been since he’d entered, Dallion decided not to push his luck. With a slight bow, he left the room. As before, the door opened and closed on its own.

Well, this was a bust, he said. At least I got something out of it.

Consider yourself lucky, dear boy. If you didn’t have a degree of notoriety, things could have been very different. The Academy doesn’t like others poking in their business.

What do you think they're actually doing here?

Something that’s not our business. Let’s leave it at that.

“I hope your conversation went well,” the scribe greeted Dallion in the corridor. “Which house will you be living in during your stay?”

“I won’t be staying at all,” Dallion said.

“Oh?” Confusion flared up within the woman.

“I got what I needed, so I must be on my way. Any chance I can get something to eat before I go?”

“Err, of course… Is there anything specific you’d prefer?”

“Just food.” Dallion went down the corridor. The visit was shorter than he imagined, but there was still a way for him to learn a thing or two. Since the people in the village were so tight-lipped, he was going to resort to those who were dying to talk—the items.