As they crested the final hill, the Village of Midhill appeared. It was a quaint settlement, scattered wooden cottages dotting the landscape. Three larger buildings stood out among the smaller homes: one with the unmistakable clang of metal on metal, which Luke guessed to be a blacksmith's forge; another was a stable combined with a barn, and the last appeared to be a warehouse. In the centre of the village, a stone well stood as a testament to the primary reason this village likely existed—an essential water source.
Luke took in the sight, noting the rustic simplicity of the place. It was a stark contrast to the towering skyscrapers and bustling streets he was used to. Here, life moved at a slower pace, dictated by the rhythms of nature and necessity. Yet, something was missing. He scanned the village again and realized there was no church, a peculiar omission for a settlement of this size.
Gareth, sensing Luke's curiosity, leaned in close and whispered.
"The people here are Antinoirists. They don't believe in saints or mages. There's no church because they reject all forms of religious and magical influence."
Luke nodded, understanding the underlying message. He had to be careful here. Any hint of his supposed magical abilities could spell trouble. Gareth had already emphasized the danger that people like Saint Cynthia would face in such a place.
Tora, ever the curious tiger, trotted alongside the carriage, his limp barely noticeable now. The villagers eyed the trio with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. It wasn't every day that strangers arrived, let alone with a tiger in tow. Gareth guided the carriage to a stop near the well and dismounted, helping Luke down.
"We should find someplace to rest and gather supplies," Gareth said. "Follow my lead and stay close."
They walked through the village, Gareth nodding politely to those they passed. He seemed at ease, though Luke noticed his eyes were constantly scanning their surroundings, ever vigilant. They reached the blacksmith's forge first, the air filled with the smell of burning coal and hot metal. The blacksmith, a burly man with arms like tree trunks, looked up from his work and nodded to Gareth.
"Morning, Gareth. What brings you to Midhill?" he asked, wiping his hands on a rag.
"Just passing through, Gregor. Definitely needing resupply, and if possibly a rest," Gareth replied. "Rest for a night or two."
Gregor grunted in acknowledgment and went back to his work. They continued on, stopping at the stable to ensure Tora had a place to rest. The stable master, a wiry older man named Ellis, was less enthusiastic about accommodating a tiger but relented after Gareth slipped him a few coins.
With Tora settled, Gareth led Luke to the village inn, a modest establishment that also served as the local tavern. Inside, the atmosphere was warm and welcoming, the scent of roasting meat filling the air. Gareth secured a room for them and they settled in, grateful for the chance to rest properly.
"Remember, Luke, we need to be careful here. The villagers might not take kindly to anything they perceive as magic. Keep your head down and stay out of trouble," as they sat by the fire, Gareth leaned in once more.
Luke nodded, understanding the gravity of their situation. Despite the peaceful facade, danger lurked in the form of prejudice and fear. As the day wore on and night began to fall, Luke found himself pondering the strange twists of fate that had brought him to this world. He felt a sense of unease mixed with curiosity about what lay ahead.
They spent the evening in relative quiet, Gareth sharing stories of his travels and Luke absorbing as much information as he could. The fire crackled, casting a warm glow on their faces as the village outside settled into its nightly routine. The journey had been long and perilous, but for now, they had found a temporary haven in the Village of Midhill. Yet, both knew that their respite was fragile, and the path ahead remained uncertain.
As they settled into their room at the inn, or rather a smaller empty cottage reserved to house travelling visitors, Luke's curiosity got the better of him.
"So, how do you know Gregor?" he asked, glancing at Gareth.
"It's not my first time here. I've been to Midhill a few times before, and Gregor is the main person I deal with when I stop here. It's always good to have someone you can rely on when traveling, someone who can act as your wingman. For me, in Midhill, that's Gregor," Gareth chuckled.
"That makes sense. But you haven't told me much about what you do. Are you always travelling?" Luke nodded, understanding the value of having a local ally.
"I just finished my knight training in the Empire of Virencia. Now, I'm travelling back to my hometown, the City of Purewood," Gareth leaned back in his chair, the firelight casting shadows across his face.
"So, we're not heading to the Empire of Virencia?" Luke's eyebrows raised in surprise.
"No, we're not. We're closer to the City of Purewood than to the Empire of Virencia. That's where we're headed," Gareth shook his head.
To support his point, Gareth pulled out the map again and spread it on the table. He pointed to a small house-like symbol on the southeastern part of the map, indicating the Village of Midhill. "This is where we are now," he said.
Next, he pointed to a symbol slightly to the east, larger and more detailed.
"And this is the City of Purewood," he explained. The symbol had a list of smaller markings, likely the name written in Iatspich, spelling out 'City of Purewood.'
Luke's eyes followed Gareth's finger as it traced northwest, to a terrain covered in snow.
"And this," Gareth said, pointing to the largest marking on the map. "Is the Empire of Virencia. You can see the walls, the territories, even the castle, which looks like a cathedral. This is where Saint Cynthia lives, ruling as both queen and saint."
Luke marvelled at the detailed map, understanding now the scale of the world they were in. It was clear that heading to the City of Purewood first was the right decision. He couldn't impose on Gareth and push him off his path.
"We should get some rest. We'll need our strength for the journey ahead," Gareth rolled up the map and looked at Luke.
As they prepared for bed, Luke's mind raced with thoughts of the new world he was in. The stark differences between his home and this place, the strange yet fascinating customs and languages, and the uncertainty of what lay ahead all weighed heavily on him. Yet, with Gareth as his guide, he felt a glimmer of hope. They would reach the City of Purewood, and from there, who knew what adventures awaited?
The fire in the hearth burned low, casting a warm glow around the room. As Luke drifted off to sleep, the mysteries of this new world mingled with his dreams, blending the familiar with the unknown. He was far from home, but for the first time since arriving, he felt a sense of purpose guiding his steps. The journey to the City of Purewood was just beginning, and Luke was ready to face whatever challenges came their way.
As the fire dwindled, casting flickering shadows on the walls, Luke lay on his makeshift bed, his thoughts a swirl of the day's revelations. He tried to reconcile the strangeness of this world with his reality. The map Gareth had shown him was both a beacon of hope and a stark reminder of how far he was from anything familiar.
Gareth, lying on the other side of the room, seemed at ease despite the day's journey and their strange encounter. Tora, nestled comfortably near the hearth, purred softly in his sleep, his large frame rising and falling rhythmically. The sight brought a small sense of comfort to Luke; even in this unfamiliar place, some things could still feel normal.
As sleep began to calm him, Luke couldn't help but replay the day's events in his mind. The Village of Midhill, with its rustic charm and absence of a church, felt like a place out of a medieval storybook. Gareth's knowledge of the land and his calm demeanour had been a steadying influence, grounding Luke when he felt most lost.
The idea that Gareth saw him as something extraordinary, a mage, was still baffling. Luke felt no different, no more powerful or capable. Yet, Gareth's respect and the way he talked about mages, witches, and saints had instilled a sense of responsibility in Luke. Perhaps he could rise to the occasion, and be the person Gareth believed him to be.
The City of Purewood awaited them, a destination that promised answers and perhaps a way for Luke to understand his place in this strange new world. For now, though, he allowed himself the peace of sleep, knowing that with the morning light would come new challenges and new adventures.