The guards led Lancer to a building that stood out slightly from the rest, a little larger and more ornate but still rough around the edges. Its wooden beams and stone foundation gave it an air of authority without unnecessary grandeur.
"Don't try anything funny," one of the guards growled, gesturing for him to wait outside.
Lancer nodded mutely, clutching his stick as the other guard disappeared into the building. He shifted nervously, his eyes darting between the gate and the shadows beyond. He wasn't sure if running would make things worse, but it was starting to feel like a real option.
Before he could decide, the door creaked open, and the guard stepped out.
Lancer nearly jumped out of his skin when the chief followed.
The man was a giant, with a broad, muscular frame that made the guards look like children in comparison. His hands, calloused and massive, looked like they could crush Lancer's head without effort. A thick beard framed his stern face, and his deep-set eyes seemed to pierce through him with a single glance.
The chief waved a hand, his voice low and commanding. "At ease."
The guards stepped back, lowering their weapons slightly. The chief's gaze never left Lancer as he spoke again.
"You. Come inside."
He turned without waiting for an answer, his heavy boots thudding against the wooden steps as he entered the building.
Lancer swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the stick as he followed. The guards didn't move to stop him, but their eyes remained watchful as he stepped through the doorway.
Inside, the house was simple, a stark contrast to the chief's imposing presence. The furniture was handmade but sturdy, the walls adorned with shelves of books and trinkets. A fire crackled in a stone hearth, casting a warm glow over the room.
It wasn't luxurious like the modern homes Lancer was used to, but it was inviting, in its own way.
The chief settled into a large wooden chair and gestured for Lancer to sit across from him. He hesitated but finally lowered himself onto a cushioned bench, the warmth of the fire soothing his frayed nerves.
"What's your name?" the chief asked, his deep voice rumbling through the quiet room.
"Lancer," he said, his voice steadier than he expected.
The chief nodded once, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What were you doing outside our walls?"
Lancer hesitated, searching for the right words. "I... I don't know. One minute I was heading home, and then... something happened. I ended up in the forest. I don't even know where I am."
The chief leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. His gaze didn't waver, but something in his expression softened.
"You're telling the truth," he said after a moment, his tone even.
Lancer frowned, leaning forward slightly. "How can you be so sure I'm telling the truth?"
The chief's lips quirked in what might have been the beginnings of a smile. "One of the uses of my magic," he said simply.
"Magic?" Lancer echoed, his brows furrowing.
The chief tilted his head, his eyes sweeping over Lancer's strange clothing. "You really aren't from around here, are you?" He paused, then waved a hand dismissively. "I won't question your origins—so long as you mean no harm."
Lancer nodded cautiously, not wanting to provoke the towering man. "You said magic. So... everyone here has it?"
"Of course," the chief said. "Magic is a part of life in this world. Some use it for farming, others for defense, healing, or even tracking. It takes many forms."
Lancer's mind raced. Magic. He'd read about it in books, seen it in games, but hearing it spoken of as a natural fact made him feel like he'd truly stepped into a different reality.
Before he could spiral too far into his thoughts, another question bubbled up. "So why was I questioned so much at the gate?"
The chief's expression darkened slightly. "This village sits far from the capital, and our location makes us a tempting target for bandits. We've had trouble before. Strangers wandering out of the forest at night are... suspicious, to say the least."
Lancer nodded slowly, the explanation lining up with what he knew from stories. "Sounds about right," he muttered under his breath.
The chief continued, his tone grave. "And then there are the beasts. Wild animals roam the woods, some more dangerous than others. They grow bolder at night. I wouldn't want anyone meeting them unprepared."
"Beasts like that wolf-thing I saw?" Lancer asked, his voice low.
The chief's eyes sharpened. "A manticore, you mean?" At Lancer's hesitant nod, he added, "You're lucky to be alive. The barrier around this village keeps them out, but beyond these walls, survival isn't guaranteed."
Lancer swallowed, gripping his knees tightly. "A barrier?"
The chief nodded. "It's powered by the magic of the villagers. It keeps the worst of the wilderness at bay. Without it, this place wouldn't last a week."
Lancer leaned back, the warmth of the fire suddenly doing little to soothe him.
The chief waved a hand, as if brushing the conversation aside. "That's enough of that. You seem lost, and I won't turn away someone in need. You're welcome to stay the night. We'll figure out what to do with you in the morning."
Relief flooded through Lancer, and he nodded quickly. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."
The chief grunted in acknowledgment before standing, his large frame casting a shadow over the flickering fire. "Get some rest. You'll need it."
Lancer's stomach growled as if on cue, and before long, he found himself seated at a modest table, sharing a simple dinner with the chief. The meal consisted of some kind of roasted meat—its texture tender but its flavor unlike anything he'd ever tasted. He had no idea what creature it had come from, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Still, it was warm and filling, and for now, that was enough.
After finishing the meal, Lancer was shown to a small room with a wooden bed and a single chair. It wasn't much, but it was more than he could have hoped for. He was just about to settle in when a knock sounded at the door.
He hesitated, his heart skipping a beat before he slowly opened it.
Standing there was a girl, about his age and height, with chestnut hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She held a bundle of blankets in her arms, and her warm brown eyes met his.
"Father told me to bring these to you," she said, her voice soft but clear.
Lancer blinked, fumbling for words. "Oh, uh... thank you."
She gave him a small, polite bow, her movements graceful. "Goodnight," she said simply before turning and walking away.
Lancer closed the door, clutching the blankets as he stood frozen for a moment. He let out a shaky breath and sat on the edge of the bed, his mind spinning.
Today had been the strangest day of his life. He'd gone from walking home on a quiet autumn evening to facing down a crystal-covered wolf in a violet-tinged forest, dining in a village protected by magic, and now... being handed blankets by the chief's daughter?
He lay back on the bed, the blankets tucked around him, his body finally relaxing.
"All this... in just a few hours," he muttered to himself, staring at the wooden beams overhead.
Before he could dwell on it any longer, exhaustion overtook him, and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.