Ojero glanced up towards the sky and marveled at the stars. It was one of his favorite hobbies to watch the stars, to look up in wonder at what could be out there.
The sun had vanished hours ago, leaving only the darkness of night and the beauty of space in its place.
Currently, Ojero was following Orpham and Roger over a hill of grass. The caravan was set up on the other side of it, and Roger had a way of sneaking into the camp to watch the Magos show off his magic.
Just a few hours earlier, they had made a rather funny discovery; Orpham did not know how to deactivate his ability. Even in the dead of night, his eyes lit up like torches, revealing their position to everyone who glanced in their direction.
To fix that issue, Roger had decided to wrap Orphams eyes with some cloth and was now leading him by the hand. This way, they could try and hide their movements from any possible watchmen or curious citizens.
Watching his brother trip multiple times in the past hour was more than enough for Ojero to shut up and not try and find an alternative solution.
Looking back down the hill, he saw Guestinore in the distance.
It was mostly dark with motes of light spread throughout the streets, making the town look mysterious and captivating. Any travelers who arrived at night would be mystified by the sight of human civilization and all the beauty it could bring.
His appreciation of his home was broken by the sound of rocks shifting and Orpham cursing as he tripped again.
"Damn this sucks! Can't I just peak under the cloth? Or just cover one eye?" He pleaded, hoping to end his torment.
"Sure, once you figure out how to turn off those lights. I swear if I didn't already know it was a Light element, I would've thought you lucked into getting Sun. Now stop whining, we are almost there. Once we get to the edges of their camp, you can take off your blindfold." Roger responded, tugging Orpham behind him.
Ojero watched with a wry grin.
'I wish I had one of my recording crystals on me.'
The crystals were rare and expensive, but his mother had somehow managed to acquire a few that had detailed stories recorded on them. It was a gift to Ojero for his tenth birthday and one of his most treasured possessions. He had hoped to bring them with him to the Academy, but they had been forbidden due to the sensitive information that could be found within the walls of the school.
Many countries would pay a fortune to have some of that information smuggled out.
His father, meanwhile, had gifted him a well-forged training sword that was made for teaching young children sword fighting.
A few minutes later they managed to crest the hill, and down the other side, they saw a square wooden fort.
It had walls of oak a few meters tall, but there were no watch towers connected to it. There was only one gate, a large one on the far side, and it was currently closed.
Inside the fort, they saw multiple campfires in the middle of a ring of abnormally long carriages often referred to as buses.
Tomorrow, the three of them would be sitting in those exact buses.
'I guess it could be later today, depending on the exact hour.'
Around the camps, dozens of men and women lounged about, sharing stories and drinking as they celebrated a completed trip from the capital to Guestinore.
One man in particular seemed to be the center of attention. He was of average height and build, but was wearing a long and flowing green cloak with various decorations of trees and antlers covering it, embroidered with golden thread.
He appeared to be recounting a particularly thrilling adventure that the trio couldn't quite make out, but they could see green energy spreading out from his hands to create visuals. There seemed to be wooden figures playing the part of actors as he narrated some kind of battle.
"That's the Magos," Roger said.
"Let's get closer so we can sneak in and listen!"
He then began creeping down the hill while pulling Orpham behind him. Ojero spared one more glance at the stars before following him, watching his footing so he didn't wind up with all the cuts and scratches Orpham was accumulating.
With little fanfare, they made it to the wall of the fort, the oak planks raising about a meter above him.
"Okay, now what?" He asked Roger, turning to face him.
To his surprise, Roger somehow had a rope already and was winding up to throw it over the other side of the wall.
He had tied a loop on that end, and after it soared over the wall it fell and snagged on something Ojero couldn't see.
Giving it a sharp tug, he put both his feet on the wall and began to climb over, reaching the top and hopping over in less than a minute.
Tapping his brother on his shoulder to get his attention, Ojero spoke.
"You should be able to take your blindfold off now. Roger just climbed over the wall, and given the lack of screaming I'll assume he made it safely."
"Climbed? How did he climb over…" His brother stopped mid-sentence as he noticed the rope.
"Wow, you smart types really do prepare for all sorts of stuff." He said as if that explained it all easily.
He then wordlessly grabbed the rope and ascended in a fashion far less graceful than Roger managed. It also took him quite a bit longer.
'How did Roger manage to get the rope here? I never saw him grab any or have any on him the entire trek here.'
Pushing the questions he had out of his mind, promising to ask Roger himself later, he grabbed the rope and began to hoist himself up.
Landing on his feet, Ojero looked around and saw Orpham and Roger hiding behind a nearby bus. They were glancing around the edge of it towards the campfire, where multiple wooden golems were currently attacking their master.
Joining them, he looked over and saw the Magos wielding a wooden sword that had a green edge, defending himself against the creatures.
The men cheered as he fought, whooping and hollering with every swing of the sword.
Throughout the fight, roots would periodically coil up around the golem's legs, slowing them down and preparing them for a carefully placed strike of the green sword.
As each golem fell, a new one would appear from the ground a few meters away, rejoining the fight in a never-ending fight.
The Magos himself seemed to be enjoying the fight, smiling and laughing as he clashed with his summoned minions. His blonde hair seemed to be held in place unnaturally, not moving even when one of the golem's arms missed it by inches.
As the fight evolved, the rate at which new golems appeared shrank before the Magos had managed to finally beat them all.
Gazing in triumph on the battlefield, he held his arms out wide as he slowly turned to look at all the adoring gazes of his viewers.
After two full rotations, green light bloomed from his hands, and the wood from all the destroyed golems flew into the air and began to form a new creature.
A monstrous beast towering four or five meters appeared, made entirely of hardwood. It had four arms and two thick legs, and on its head there were three long twisting horns. Its maw was filled with sharpened wooden spikes, and it opened it to release a terrifying and deep roar.
"What the gods is that?" Orpham asked, whispering under his breath.
"An Ent Lord. I bet the Magos had to beat one himself to be able to make minions out of them." Roger replied absentmindedly, a frown on his face as he observed the fight.
The Magos seemed to not have any fear at all as he put his sword in a forward stance, lowering his center of mass and preparing himself for the continuation of the fight.
His opponent slammed its four arms together, creating a loud bang, before beginning to charge forward.
In the next minute, the green blade lashed out to meet the horrifying beast.