Upon his realisation, an overwhelming feeling of shame consumed his senses. He had just pretended to be the emissary of a Sun God... Then, he proceeded to cast a spell that used water.
Turning his eyes to the crowd, he hoped dearly that this trivial thing wouldn't bother them or make them doubt him.
He could only hope...
"This must be the power of Lady Mergilda! Heavens! He must have received the blessings of several Gods!" Breaking the heavy silence were the words of the woman who initially identified Claude as an emissary of the Gods.
Hearing her proclamation, the people around her exchanged glances of understanding, a single thought springing forth in their minds.
Such a powerful person is being sent to us at this time... This must be the will of the All-Father Solhart! He hasn't forsaken us!
"Your Excellency, you should return to our camp with us. Perhaps we can help you in your mission?" The middle-aged man named Karl stepped forward.
On hearing this, Claude felt a surge of relief. 'At least that worked out...' he thought, allowing himself to calm down. "Of course, that would be fine," he replied, knowing full well the value of this invitation.
Excitement boiled within the villagers at Claude's affirmation.
"Let's throw a festival for you, Emissary! A celebration of your arrival," Karl, who was joyful at Claude's agreement, enthusiastically announced.
Though Claude didn't want to make such a fuss, he understood the benefits. 'If they throw a festival, they should get drunk. Then, it shouldn't be too hard to get some information from them... right?'
He recalled how the villagers behaved during festivals, their faces flushed with a rosy hue, their words spilling out in erratic, unguarded bursts.
Amid his thoughts, Claude followed Karl and his people through the winding paths and dense foliage of the amethyst woods.
As they walked, the villagers spoke in hushed tones, their eyes alight with a mixture of reverence and hope as they peeked at Claude from time to time.
On the other hand, Claude quietly listened to their conversations, desperately trying to understand the world around him and the origin of these people.
From the scraps of information he gathered, he confirmed a few things.
Solhart was the King of Gods, and Lady Mergilda was the Goddess of the Sea and Queen of the Gods.
On the other hand, Karl was this group's village chief, and Agnes, the woman from before, was the village healer.
'Yet this creates a problem... Why were a village chief and healer outside of the village? What were they looking for?' Doubts lingered in Claude's mind regarding the true purpose of this group.
He could scarcely imagine his village entrusting a frail old man like Raymond with any sort of expedition. There was simply no point.
'Then there is also their reaction... Their naive trust makes deception simple, yet unsettlingly easy...'' Claude felt like their reactions implied something.
In what scenario would one constantly be on the lookout for some sort of divine intervention? To almost blindly believe in someone claiming to be a messenger of the Gods...?
'They're desperate... They're afraid...?' Claude began to slowly put the pieces together, trying to explain their behaviour. However, he then asked himself a daunting question.
If they are afraid... What is it that they fear...?
Amidst his pondering, a sliver of guilt crept into his heart for deceiving these people through their fear and beliefs, yet he couldn't do without it in this strange world.
As the group walked towards the settlement, the landscape opened up to reveal a sprawling camp composed of numerous tents and simple wooden structures.
Watching the camp from outside, Claude felt his caution regarding the world around him continue to grow.
The tents were small and makeshift.
The wooden perimeter of the camp was irregular and messy.
All of these pointed to one thing: this was a temporary camp.
Thinking of his previous guesses, Claude felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.
His dreams of finding himself in a normal world without any mystical creatures or powers, training his mage powers in relative safety before returning, now seemed reluctant to accomplish.
Meeting the group at the perimeter of the camp was a group of men, each holding a strange-looking spear.
The shafts of these spears were longer than typical spears and appeared to be made of dark wood, banded with segments of polished metal.
At the front, the spears didn't end in a simple point but instead in a complex arrangement of metal that looked somewhat like the head of a large screw.
Hanging on the waists of these men were heavy, metallic balls, each the size of a large apple, with unknown patterns etched into their surfaces.
Seeing this, Claude couldn't help but think these men were holding mere ceremonial items rather than actual weapons.
"Chief! You're back! Have you found the ruin yet?" A young man heading the crowd asked Karl with utmost fervour.
'Ruin...?' Claude's attention was immediately drawn to the unfamiliar word as he stood in the crowd, listening silently.
"No, not yet. But fret not, Peter, we found something else—someone else," Karl replied with a mysterious smile, pulling Claude into the spotlight. "With the blessing of the Gods, we've come across their emissary," Karl announced, gesturing grandly towards Claude.
The group of men, presumably village guards, were shocked at the behaviour of their normally stoic chief. Yet, they understood that if what he said was true, his behaviour would make complete sense to them.
"Is it true?!" Peter's eyes widened, his voice quivering with a mixture of hope and shock as he asked the question.
"Boy! When have I ever lied to you?!" Karl huffed, crossing his arms, receiving an awkward look from Peter.
After the debacle, the two groups began heading deeper into the village; the simple, rustic gathering of tents and fires hummed with excitement and anticipation.
Everyone heard the news of an emissary of the Gods being in their village and that they were going to throw a celebration for him.
Elders conferred quietly, children peeked from behind the worn fabrics of their makeshift homes, and soon, the entire camp was alive with the preparation for a festival. After all, it wasn't every day that a supposed agent of the gods graced their humble settlement.
As the preparation for the festival went underway, Claude was brought to a large white tent by Agnes where a basin of water lay and a fresh set of clothes hung on the bed.
When Agnes had left, Claude looked at his clothes and realised the current state of them, they were muddied and stained with blood.
'When was the last time I ever got so dirty...' Claude shook his as he mused. Raymond was an old man who prided himself on his cleanliness, anytime Claude got dirty he would inevitably be chided and told not to dirty the house.
Washing his face and hands in the water, he promptly changed into the prepared clothes and headed out of the tent in time for the celebration.
As he travelled through the camp, he found colourful banners raised, tables set with tantalising food, and old, hearty tunes filled the air, played on lyres and flutes.
The air was thick with the sweet smoke of roasting meats and the tangy scent of berry wines being shared among the villagers whilst the ground beneath Claude's feet vibrated with the rhythmic stomping of dances.
Walking to the centre of the celebration where Karl stood, he felt slightly unnerved by the vast attention being directed at him on the way there.
As he hastily declined to partake in the dance, a laughing villager draped a garland of wildflowers around his neck, the petals soft and fragrant. Claude soon found himself beside Karl who was heartily celebrating with his fellow villagers.
"Tonight, we celebrate the blessings of Lady Mergilda and the All-Father Solhart!" Karl raised his cup high, then hesitated, realising he hadn't confirmed a detail. "Erm... Lord Emissary...? Do you have a name?" He asked, turning his head to Claude beside him.
"Claude. Just call me Claude."
Hearing his answer, Karl continued his chanting. "To Sir Claude! The emissary of the Gods!" Karl shouted at the top of his lungs as the crowd cheered, their voices a unified chorus of joy and hope.
Over time, the revelry showed no signs of waning. The village was bustling, with most chugging as much alcohol as they could take.
As time lapsed, Claude saw his chance to learn more about this alien world. He approached Karl, who now stood slightly apart, his cheeks reddened and his demeanour softened by drink.
"Ah! Lord Emiss- I mean Sir Claude! How have you found the celebration?" Karl greeted him enthusiastically.
"The celebrations were wonderful. They've lightened my mood a lot..." Claude admitted, his voice faltering as memories briefly clouded his thoughts.
He truly didn't lie. The celebration did help to distract him from his rather eventful past few days. The joy and hope plastered across the villagers' faces brought some semblance of cheerfulness into his heart.
Putting those thoughts behind him, Claude focused on asking the questions that had been gnawing at him. "By the way... You've been looking for ruins?" Claude asked tentatively.
"Ah, the ruins," Karl began, his expression turning serious. "Why wouldn't we look for them...? They store, treasure, weapons, and knowledge but most importantly, we can live inside of them. Nevertheless..." Karl shook his head as his words trailed off towards the end.
"I can understand why you would doubt our decision to go hunting for these ruins." Karl looked at Claude as he continued speaking. "To even think of trying to conquer a set of ruins, we would have to compete with them..."
"Them?" Claude repeated, confused about whom this referred to.
"Oh! My apologies. To you, they may not seem to be a threat due to your blessings and the protection of the Gods. I was referring to those blood-drinking fiends and their human dogs." Karl's fists clenched as he got to his final sentence, his anger palpable.
The mere idea of these fiends and traitors seemed to make his blood boil, making him exhibit an anger that belied his usual gentle behaviour.
As Claude contemplated this information, he noticed Karl starting to sway, eventually lying flat on the ground in a drunken stupor.
'Looks like I won't be getting more answers out of him anytime soon,' he thought, shaking his head as he looked up at the night sky.
The crimson moon hung low, a silent observer in the sky, its blood-red glow casting an ominous light on the world beneath it.
Staring at the moon, Claude found himself trying to come to terms with what he had learned about the alien world he was in.
Gods. Ruins. Blood-drinking Fiends. Human traitors.
Every moment in this world felt increasingly dangerous to Claude.
Yet, he would be a fool not to link the ever-increasing number of dangers in this world to a possible source.
And the only possible source he could currently think of was... the subspace.