It has been quite some time since I arrived in this village. My hands are no longer tied. The villagers now treat me as one of their own, though deep down they are wary. Apparently they don't trust me yet. I am not allowed to leave the village, but I can wander around at my leisure.
I've hit it off with the family I've been placed with.
Husband: Eldrin, a sturdy man in his early forties, tall, broad-shouldered, with a weathered face marked by years spent in the sun. His dark hair is touched with gray and his beard is thick and well-groomed. Eldrin is an experienced hunter, known for his strength and endurance. He wears practical clothing suitable for the outdoors: leather boots, a wool tunic, and a cloak to protect him from the cold.
Wife: Lyra, a woman of graceful manners, is in her late forties. She has long, loose brown hair that frames a delicate face, and bright green eyes that seem to be full of warmth and wisdom. Lyra is the heart of the family, often tending the home hearth and preparing meals from a variety of fresh produce grown in their small garden. Her attire is simple but elegant: a long dress of soft fabric, often adorned with brightly colored belts.
Kieran: A younger boy, about ten years old, full of energy and curiosity. He has a mop of mussed brown hair and a smile that lights up his face. Kieran loves exploring the village and often asks me questions about my past and the world beyond. He wears a tunic that is a little big for him.
Elian: My eldest son is about sixteen, tall for his age, with a lean build that suggests he is turning into a young man. Elian has dark, disheveled hair and a serious expression that contrasts with his younger brother's cheerfulness. He often helps Eldrin with hunting and chores in the village. He dresses in practical, sturdy clothing, often has a knife hanging at his side, and is learning to be a hunter.
The hospitality and kindness of this family made my stay here more bearable, and I began to feel a sense of belonging, albeit tinged with the constant wariness of the villagers.
Everyone in this village called me "The Wanderer", as I didn't know my name and had no desire to make one up. It seemed fitting, given my aimless journey and the uncertainty of my past.
Recently, I was allowed to go hunting with the men. As we walked, they talked amongst themselves, telling stories and bantering with each other, but speaking quietly so as not to scare the game away.
"Did you hear about the time Eldrin almost missed a deer because he tripped over his own feet?" - grinned one of the men, Khador, a stocky fellow with a beard as wild as the forest around us.
Eldrin smirked: "Yes, and it was your fault you insisted I wear those clunky boots! I might have grabbed it if it weren't for your terrible fashion advice."
Khador laughed, "Fashion? We're hunters, Eldrin! It's not like we're dressing up for a ball!"
Kieran, who was walking a little behind us, squeaked: "I think the Wanderer would look good at a ball like this."
Elian: "Focus on the hunt, little brother. We need to catch something tonight."
- Otherwise Eldrin will be wearing those boots all next season," Khador added, holding back a laugh.
"Don't forget to listen," Eldrin instructed. "The forest speaks to itself. You may hear rustling and stomping of feet if you are quiet enough."
"Something like whispers?" I asked, trying to strike up a conversation with them.
"Exactly! But don't get too distracted by the sounds of the world around you," Elian warned," or you might miss the real target.
- By the way," Khador pointed ahead," I see something moving! - He crouched low, squinting his eyes.
We all froze. A deer appeared in sight, nibbling on the sparse grass. The men readied their bows, and tension hung in the air.
- "On three," Eldrin whispered. "One... two... three!"
I marveled at how well they had coordinated their efforts. Although I wasn't involved in the hunt per se, I helped drag the game back to the village, feeling the satisfaction of our success. "See?" - Said Eldrin with a smile on his face as we dragged ourselves back. - It's not just about the murder, it's about the stories we'll tell tonight around the campfire.
Kieran, full of excitement, jumped up beside me. "The wanderer helped us! Next time he'll catch one himself!" The laughter and carefree attitude lightened the burden of the game, and for the first time in a long time I felt a sense of belonging.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. I became one of them, fully integrated into village life. The villagers helped me build a small shack on the outskirts, a humble dwelling in which I felt like a sanctuary. It was simple but cozy, decorated with the remnants of my life there: tools I borrowed, small trinkets donated by the villagers, and rare brightly colored flowers I found in the fields nearby.
One of the boys, Kieran, often spent time with me. His youthful cheerfulness and inquisitiveness were contagious. He came every day, eager to share stories about his life and the village. I learned that he helped his father, Eldrin, with hunting and chores. In the mornings he practiced archery and in the afternoons he gathered brushwood or played with the other children. As he learned from the men of the village, he shared with me the values of courage, community, and resilience that formed the foundation of their worldview.
"You know," Kiran said, and his eyes shone with excitement, "we believe that every season has its own spirit. Spring is the spirit of new beginnings! The trees are blossoming, the animals are waking up, and everyone is happy!" He would often engage me in his fascinating stories about the forest spirits, explaining how they celebrated each season with festivals, songs and dances.
Over time, I became more adept at communicating with the villagers. I worked side by side with them, helping with chores and learning their crafts. My hut became a small center of laughter and friendship where children gathered to listen to stories of adventure or play games.
And so suddenly a year has passed since I arrived in this village. The air had begun to warm, the snow had melted, and the colors of spring were bright. The village buzzed with excitement as the trade caravan entered, its arrival heralded by colorful flags and the sound of merry chatter.
"Look! The merchants are here!" - Shouted Kieran, tugging at my sleeve, and his face lit up with glee. The villagers had gathered in the square, eager to see what news and goods the caravan would bring. As the merchants unloaded their wares, the village filled with the scent of spices and baked goods. I made my way through the crowd, soaking up the lively atmosphere. The merchants told stories of distant lands, describing lush valleys, high mountains, and bustling cities beyond the horizon. "There is a new settlement to the south," one of the merchants announced, drawing the crowd's attention. "They have discovered rich soil for farming and are growing crops! They say they have fields of golden grains that stretch as far as the eye can see!"
"Golden grains?" Eldrin repeated, intrigued. "How are they different from ours?"
"They're even sweeter," the merchant replied, and his eyes sparkled. "And the townspeople there trade in all sorts of goods - cloth, trinkets, and even stories of their adventures."
Kieran's imagination lit up at the possibilities opening up. "Can we ever go there? I want to see the golden fields!"
- Maybe someday," Eldrin grinned, ruffling Kiran's hair. - But for now, we have our home and stories to share.
The villagers traded goods with the merchants, sharing their life stories. Laughter rang in the air as they exchanged goods and chatted, creating bonds not only over trade, but over the shared joy of human companionship. As I watched what was happening, I felt a sense of fulfillment wash over me.
"Tell me," I asked, "what news do you bring from the outside world? Is there anything of interest?"
The merchant raised an eyebrow, intrigued by my curiosity. "Ah, you must be one of those quiet people who keep to yourself. Well, let me tell you that the world outside of this village is a cauldron of chaos right now. City-states that refuse to unite under any one banner are pouncing on each other like wolves. Each ruler wants to expand their influence, and it is the common people who suffer the most. Wars sprout like weeds."
He leaned toward me slightly, lowering his voice. - And amidst all this chaos, there are rumors of a new trend in alchemy. A certain sage, or at least that's what they call him, has been traveling from city to city, preaching something entirely new. He claims that alchemy is not just about turning lead into gold, but about unlocking the secrets of life itself. It is said that he can create potions that instantly heal the sick, curing any ailment. Some even whisper that he has found a way to stop aging."
I felt a spark flare up inside me. Alchemy had always intrigued me, its mysterious blend of science and magic offering a glimpse into something more. I had encountered it before, but never in such a fascinating context. The thought of life and death, especially after the changes my own body had undergone, hit a nerve with me.
"What do you know about this sage?" - I asked in a calm but full of interest voice.
The merchant shrugged his shoulders. "Honestly, not much. He moves like a shadow, never staying in one place for long. But wherever he goes, he leaves behind disciples - people eager to learn from him. They say he teaches a new form of alchemy that combines the physical with the spiritual. He talks about how everything is connected: the elements, the stars, even our souls. Some believe him, some think he's crazy."
I nodded thoughtfully, my mind already going over the possibilities. Could this sage provide answers to questions about my own rebirth, about the forces that had shaped me? If he understood the connection between life and death, perhaps he knew more about the limits - or lack thereof - of immortality.
"And these disciples," I insisted, "where can they be found?"
The merchant scratched his beard. - It's hard to say. Most of them remain in the major city-states, where they can practice without much interference. But due to the ongoing wars, they have scattered. There are rumors that some are even hiding in remote villages like this one, but I haven't seen them.
I pondered over his words. The world outside of this village was in turmoil, but in that chaos could lie the answers I sought. Alchemy could be the key to understanding the nature of my abilities, and perhaps more. The thought of a sage who understood not only metals and potions, but the essence of life itself, was too intriguing to ignore.
- Thank you," I said, handing him a few coins for his trouble.
He smirked, quickly tucking them into his pocket. - If you're interested in alchemy, I suggest you keep your eyes open. Where there is chaos, there will always be people looking for answers. And if you're lucky, you might find what you're looking for.
The outside world was calling, and it seemed to have much to offer, both danger and discovery.
When evening came, the villagers gathered around a large central fire, its warm light casting flickering shadows on their faces. The sounds of laughter, the clinking of lutes and the rhythmic beat of drums filled the air. People danced, some swaying with carefree grace, others stomping to the beat of the music. Children ran in circles, imitating the adults, and a breeze carried their giggles.
Even the merchants, who had been unloading goods and making deals all day, joined us. They shared stories of their travels, their voices mingling with the crackling of the fire. It was a rare moment of celebration in the quiet village.
I sat a little apart from the group and watched them. The villagers accepted me as one of their own, though I always felt an underlying wariness. I had lived among them long enough to remember the rhythms of human life-the daily work, the small joys, the comfort of company. I have achieved what I came here for: to remember what it is like to be part of something, to understand once again what it means to live as a "human being".
The world beyond these borders was vast and full of the unknown. The news from the merchant only fueled my curiosity about alchemy, war, and the forces shaping this world. And with each passing hour, the desire to explore these mysteries grew stronger.
It was time to move on, to follow the path of knowledge and adventure. The thought of traveling with the caravan was tempting. They traveled between city-states, exchanging not only goods but also information. If I traveled with them, I could learn more about this mysterious sage and the new alchemical teachings. But I knew there was a chance they wouldn't accept me. To them I could be just another stranger, a wanderer with no past and no name. If they refused, it wouldn't matter much. I had traveled alone before and I could do it again.
Tomorrow I would pack up my few belongings, say goodbye, and head off into the far world.
This village has given me what I needed - a reconnection to my humanity. Now it was time to explore what lay beyond.