Emilie chuckled softly beside him, adjusting the strap of her bag. "You're not wrong," she said with a teasing smile. "I've never actually seen Glimmerroot or Moonthorn myself. But I've heard they shimmer when under the moonlight. This must be extremely beautiful, don't you think?"
As Oliver and Emelie ventured deeper into the forest, the church slowly fading from view behind them, they suddenly spotted a figure up ahead. A man sat on a fallen log, he was tall and skinny. His grey hair was slightly tousled, and a faint beard covered his weathered face. He wore a worn leather jacket, giving him the look of a seasoned traveler. In his hands, he held a long, gleaming sword, turning it slowly as he inspected the blade in quiet contemplation.
"Let's avoid him." Oliver whispered to Emelie.
Emelie nodded, glancing at the stranger warily. She gripped the strap of her bag a little tighter, her steps growing cautious as they both moved quietly to the side, hoping to slip past unnoticed.
"Would you mind talking to this old man?" The person sitting on a log, still looking at his sword, said.
Oliver swallowed hard, exchanging a glance with Emelie. She looked just as surprised.
The man on the log shifted slightly, though his attention remained fixed on the blade in his hands. "It's not often I get to talk to others," he added, his tone calm.
"Hello, mister," Oliver said cautiously, stepping forward just enough to be heard clearly. "My name is Oliver, and the girl beside me is Emilie."
The man finally lifted his gaze from the sword, his sharp, weathered eyes locking onto Oliver and then briefly on Emilie. There was no malice in his expression, only a quiet intensity, as if he were sizing them up with a single glance.
"Oliver and Emilie," he repeated, his voice steady, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "A fine pair of names." He rested the sword across his knees and leaned back slightly. "Come, don't be afraid. I won't bite you hahahaha!"
His laugh echoed through the quiet forest, though it held no malice. Still, Oliver hesitated, unsure whether to trust the stranger. Emilie shot him a quick, uncertain glance, as if silently asking what they should do.
After a brief pause, Oliver nodded and stepped forward, keeping a cautious distance. "We were just... out gathering herbs," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "What are you doing out here, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Me? Oh, I'm just resting," the man replied, his tone casual as he leaned back a little more on the log. His eyes, however, remained sharp, watching their every movement. "By the way," he continued, tilting his head slightly, "aren't you two the ones who sang in the church by Mistpeak village?"
Oliver blinked in surprise, glancing at Emilie before responding. "Uh, yeah, that was us. You were there?"
The man nodded slowly. "Yeah. Haven't heard a song like that in a long time."
"So, Oliver," the man said, his voice taking on a thoughtful tone, "are you interested in the warrior's path? Sorry for such a sudden question." He glanced down at the sword resting across his knees before looking back up at Oliver. "But you see, I'm pretty old now, and brandishing a sword isn't as easy for these old bones anymore."
His eyes held a glimmer of nostalgia as he ran a hand over the hilt. "So I've been thinking... it's time to pass this sword on to someone worthy, someone whose hands it'll fit. And I'm wondering if that someone might be you."
Oliver's heart skipped a beat. He stared at the man, wide-eyed. "Me?" he asked, almost in disbelief. "Why me?"
The man gave a soft chuckle. "Because you are worthy."
"Why?" Oliver pressed, still bewildered by the sudden offer.
"..."
"Just take the damn sword, little bastard. It's so heavy that i won't be able to get to the city to sell it."
Oliver blinked, taken aback by the bluntness. Emilie stifled a laugh beside him, and the man gave a tired shrug. "It's a fine blade, don't get me wrong. But I'm done carrying it around. It'll serve you better than me, that's for sure."
"...Thank you, mister," Oliver said, his voice sincere as he reached out to take the sword. The weight of it in his hands was heavier than he had expected. "I will never forget this."
"Alright, guys," the man said with a playful grin, stretching his back as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Thanks for freeing me from this burden. Go now, don't disturb my rest."
Oliver and Emilie exchanged glances, unsure whether to laugh or be cautious. The man waved them off, shooing them with a flick of his hand. "Go! Before I change my mind!" he teased.
Oliver nodded, gripping the sword tighter. "Thanks again, mister," he said, turning to head back down the path with Emilie at his side. The mysterious man watched them for a moment longer, then returned to his quiet spot on the log, chuckling to himself as they disappeared into the trees.
"Do you think that man robbed a warrior and took their sword?" Emilie asked, as they continued walking westward.
Oliver glanced down at the sword in his hands. "I don't know," he admitted, frowning slightly. "He didn't seem like a thief... but then again, who just gives away a sword like this?"
"In any case, aren't you worried about him?" Emilie asked, her voice tinged with concern. "He gave away his weapon, and even though this area of the forest is safe, if he were to venture somewhere else, there'd be wolves, bears, or something even scarier."
Oliver glanced back over his shoulder, the man's figure long gone from view. "Well, let's just hope he has a knife or something."
Emilie chuckled softly, though her concern still lingered in her eyes. "Let's hope so," she agreed, though her voice hinted at doubt. "Either way, it's not our problem, I guess."
The two continued walking in silence, the trees thinning as they approached a mild hill that rose gently in the distance. Sunlight filtered through the branches, casting long shadows across the path. As they crested the hill, the landscape opened up before them, revealing a small, secluded clearing surrounded by patches of wildflowers and tall grass.