The client for this particular job was a man from the High Federation. Commodore Shelley was a brute of a man, with gray-green skin and a shaved head, with two bolts nailed to each side of his thick neck. He was wearing a crisp dress uniform when Becenti and Joseph went to meet him aboard his flagship, the Eya's Peace and Refuge. Joseph noted that one of his middle fingers had been stitched onto his hand, was a shade darker than the rest of his skin. Shelley's left arm was also slightly longer than his right. He walked with a lumbering gait, towering over both metahumans as he greeted them in the Eya's hangar, before taking them up to his office.
A couple decorations adorned Commodore Shelley's room. A painting of his people's home plane, Kraven, the World of Genius. A couple artifacts from his family, hands and bones from his ancestors. A replica of the Eya was placed on a small pedestal by the wall, and lying against it was a hand-sewn doll with button eyes, its yarn scarred by scorch marks. Shelley, from what Becenti had told Joseph, had been a refugee, when Kraven had been glassed during the war. Joseph didn't know who the doll had belonged to.
He didn't ask.
“I'm glad you could make it out here, Myron,” Commodore Shelley said in his gravelly voice, “After Kristandi's death, I was wondering if the wind had been taken from your sails.”
“Not at all,” Becenti said, “If anything, Kristandi's death has made my vision clearer.”
He said this with an edge in his voice that Joseph rarely heard. The younger man gave Becenti a sideways glance.
Shelley's attention turned to him.
“And this is your guildmate?” he said, “Joseph, was it not?”
“You've heard of me?” Joseph asked.
“Myron's told me about you, in our communications,” Shelley said, and he extended a meaty hand, “Commodore Robert Shelley.”
Joseph quirked an eyebrow, before taking the hand. He was unused to casual familiarity when dealing with the High Federation. The rulers of the Silver Eye were usually more aggressive. Demeaning.
“All bad things, right?” he said.
“Only the best,” Becenti said, “Which is why I think you'll want to hear the details on this job.”
“Right,” Joseph said, “What is it?”
Commodore Shelley nodded, and he took out a small disc, laying it down. A small hologram glowed to life, a fleet of odd shapes, ever-shifting and warping. The rudimentary depiction of a Squall, a small gathering of planes in the multiverse, a poor man's attempt at mapping the fifth dimension to the third.
“What's the plane?” Joseph asked.
“An uncontacted one,” Commodore Shelley said, “It's only recently been entered into the Federation records. It doesn't even have an official name or designation.”
“Uncontacted?” Joseph said, and he turned to Becenti, “A metahuman plane?”
“As far as I'm aware, no,” Becenti said.
“Then it's an expedition, right?” Joseph said, “I mean, if it is, why aren't we getting everyone together, drawing names out of a hat, deciding who gets to go, all of that?”
“Well,” Commodore Shelley said, “This isn't primarily an exploratory mission, per say. More of a...”
He struggled to find the word.
“Search and destroy.”
Joseph raised an eyebrow.
“Search and destroy?”
“Yes,” Commodore Shelley said, “Are you aware of the Sons of Darwin, Joseph?”
The Sons of Darwin. Joseph grimaced.
“Yeah,” he said, “Visited one of their prisons.”
He tried not to notice the imperceptible look of guilt that flashed on Becenti's face. The Death Valley job on Prime had been brutal. A near disaster. Joseph still had nightmares.
“Good, then you know what to expect,” Commodore Shelley said.
“What, are they on this plane?” Joseph said.
“They are,” Shelley said, “Or, at least, one of their projects is.”
He rose from his seat, lumbered over to the window. They were out in deep space, having rendezvoused with the Eya as far from prying eyes as was realistically possible.
“The Sons of Darwin delved deep into the multiverse, during their heyday,” Shelley said, “They explored – and conquered – many planes of existence, many of which had been previously unknown to Federation records.”
“And this plane is one of them,” Joseph said.
“Yes,” Shelley said, and he turned to face the metahuman, “We tried to get as much information out of the Darwinist remains as we could, but there are still a few blind spots here and there. We believe this is one of those blind spots, a secret Darwinist project that they could reactivate, considering that Stellar Queen and Dakos have escaped their prisons.”
Joseph was quiet at that. He looked at Becenti.
“And you're sending me there.”
“You don't have to take it, Joseph,” Becenti said, “It's a job that requires secrecy. You'll be working to blend in with the locals.”
“You'll have a cover story,” Shelley said, “A cover life. You'll work from within the confines of the plane to find the project, and destroy it.”
“...And why not send in a Federation agent?” Joseph said, “You've got the resources, right?”
At this, both Shelley and Becenti were quiet. They exchanged a look with one another. Joseph scowled.
“This is off the books, isn't it?” he said.
“It's still...” Becenti chose his words carefully, “It's still a guild job, officially. Our client is Robert Shelley, not the Federation.”
“...The High Federation's burying its head in the sand,” the Commodore said, “The fact that Kristandi's death is being covered up tells us that much. We have to take matters into our own hands. Use what we must to counteract the threat.”
Joseph sighed. Rubbed his temples.
“Will I be alone?” he asked.
“Rosemary and Mallory will be on a nearby plane, on another job,” Becenti said, “But for the trip itself, you’ll be on your own.”
He looked hard at his guildmate.
“Joseph,” he said, “I wouldn't ask you to do this if I thought you wouldn't be able to handle it. It's a lot to take on. You'll need to keep your wits about you at all times. You'll be forced to lie almost casually-”
“Done that before,” Joseph said.
“And you're also one of the few in the guild I trust would be able to pull this off,” Becenti said, “You'll need to research to find what the project is. You'll need to ingratiate yourself with the locals in the region we believe the project is located. You'll need to destroy it.”
“And if I reveal knowledge of the multiverse?” Joseph asked.
“This isn't a first contact scenario,” Shelley said, “If you need to reveal that information, do so. But the reason for secrecy is so that you can avoid any suspicion from Darwinist agents still on-plane. You'll be a native, not a guildfolk.”
Joseph took a deep breath. Closed his eyes. Thought about it. This was not the sort of job that he was used to. Not the sort that he expected. But then, ever since his arrival to the multiverse, he'd had to do a lot, become a lot, of what he didn’t want.
What was one more?
For the guild.
“Alright,” he said, “What can you tell me about this plane?”
***
The locals called their world Dà Xiàng – quite literally, 'Big Elephant,' or simply, 'Elephant.' Joseph didn't need a dictionary for that. He had found out why the plane was so named during his foray through Old Gate City. A vast map of the world was put up for sale at the market, showing a circular, flat world, the Elephant's head, tusks, and trunk poking out of the map's north. No doubt it was literal – he had heard sellers peddling shavings of ivory as 'coming from beyond itself,' to be bottled up for medicines, to purge toxins from the system and for general good health.
If one felt the earth carefully, if one concentrated – and that was easier for Anri users – one could become part of the world, if for only a little while. They could feel Dà Xiàng’s movements, the rise and fall of pillar legs, the breathing through a trunk as long as a continent.
And, one could feel how lonely Dà Xiàng was. The only elephant of his size, alone in the multiverse. Always wandering, with nowhere to go.
***
Dinner was, as Guo Kenan stated, ready when Zheng Jo came downstairs in the evening. It was evident that the inn here was not so much for visitors as it was for the townsfolk, who had congregated downstairs to play games, drink, and complain after a long day's work.
Or, perhaps, Zheng Jo's arrival to the Opal Hills was newsworthy enough to bring the whole town in. It was the elders of the town, perhaps waiting for Zheng Jo's appearance, who stopped talking first. Han Deming and Yin Biya were, arguably, the oldest two mortals in the Opal Hills, Han Deming being ninety-two, and Yin Biya being ninety-four (though she insisted she wasn't a day over eighty.) The townsfolk argued that they should have gotten married upon the death of their respective spouses, but both refused, content to play Xiangqi, first at Han Deming's house, then at the inn.
They were the first to stop their game, craning ancient heads over to the new arrival. Li Bai, one of the more venerable members of the community, a farmer whose father's harvests had saved the town after a bad winter, stopped listening to one of Lo Qiu's drunken stories to look over at Zheng Jo.
Tai Haoran, foremost protege of the White Flame Sect, had come down from the monastery tonight to get a glimpse of this newcomer. He was built like a tiger, lithe yet muscular, a thin mustache penciled on his lip. He kept his hair short, to better prevent an enemy from grasping it during combat (as had been his weakness during his first year of training under Grandmaster Zhou.)
He was considering Zheng Jo with a sharp eye as the newcomer sat down at the bar. Zheng Jo, for his part, flashed him a smile, but there was warning to it.
“Ah, our visitor,” Guo Kenan said, “Glad you could make it down.”
“I needed to rest up, after traveling so long,” Zheng Jo said, “Sorry if I'm late.”
“Not late at all, young master,” Guo Kenan said.
He ate his meal, roasted duck with spring onions and rice.
The entirety of the inn had gone silent at this point. And watched him. Zheng Jo noted this partway through his meal. He looked up, glanced around.
The farmers from the surrounding area, those who could afford to come into town on short notice, had all gathered inside. They had brought their wives with them. Their children. An entire population watched Zheng Jo eat.
Tai Haoran continued glaring at him.
Zheng Jo glanced over at him.
“What's up?” he asked.
“I'm wondering why you are here, traveler,” Tai Haoran purred, “I'm wondering if you are who you say you are.”
Zheng Jo rolled his eyes.
“Way to be blunt about it,” he muttered.
“Are you?” Tai Haoran said.
“Am I what?” Zheng Jo asked, aggravated, “What, one of your rival sects, or whatever?”
“Yes,” Tai Haoran said, simply. Dangerously.
“...No,” Zheng Jo said, “I'm not. I already told that Grandmaster Zhou guy, I'm just a researcher.”
He fixed a level look at Tai Haoran.
“Nothing more.”
There was, the room noted, an energy in the room. One that had suddenly become dangerous. Zheng Jo was glaring at Tai Haoran. Tai Haoran was glaring at Zheng Jo. The air took on an odd tinge.
(And Joseph knew it to be ozone.)
“Alright,” Tai Haoran said, “But know this. I'm watching you.”
“Do so,” Zheng Jo said, “I don't care.”
He looked around the room. At the stares.
He took his bowls, and went back up the stairs. They heard his footsteps as he made his way back to his room. Poor manners, though some couldn't blame him.
The townsfolk slowly started talking amongst themselves again, conversation picking back up.
“He's a firecracker, that one,” Yin Biya said, “Like he's barely holding onto a civil facade.”
“Who?” Han Deming piped, “Tai Haoran, or our visitor?”
“Our visitor,” Yin Biya said, “He's definitely got a temper to him.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Ha!” Han Deming said, “The young always do.”
“Remember when you were like that with Fang?” Yin Biya said, “Always yammering at him? Until he got so mad he buried you in that hole.”
At this, Han Deming let out a cracking laugh.
“Yes! Like that,” Han Deming said.
On the other side of the room, Lo Qiu was chuckling to himself. He was one to drink hard and quick early in the night, and his words were already slurring.
“Doeshn't sheem like a bad kid,” he said, “Right, Li Bai?”
Li Bai was watching Tai Haoran's reaction. The Anri user was looking at the staircase where Zheng Jo had been a moment before. His arms were crossed, and he was leaning against the bar. Li Bai walked over to him.
“Do you think he'll be trouble?” he asked.
“My master says there is something about him,” Tai Haoran said, “I decided to check for myself.”
“Something about him?” Li Bai said.
“I do not expect you, who possesses no knowledge of Anri, to understand,” Tai Haoran sneered, “But know this. I will watch this Zheng Jo. If he is a danger to the White Flame Sect, I will burn a hole through his chest.”
He got up. Gave a mocking half bow to Li Bai, and sauntered off.
***
It was obvious to Joseph, as he finished eating, that he had caused more of a stir than he had anticipated by coming to the Opal Hills.
He hadn't realized just how out in the boonies the town was located, in comparison to the rest of the region. Old Gate City had been a metropolis. Blending in had been no trouble at all.
But here?
He was making waves. And he wasn't supposed to do that.
Joseph sniffed. The air smelled of faint ozone. He could feel his soul, alive and burning, boil in his stomach. Joseph grimaced, despite the comfort of his eagle's purr.
The last thing he needed was to reveal himself as a metahuman. That old man, that Grandmaster Zhou, was already suspicious. As was Tai Haoran. Were there metahumans on this plane? So far, Joseph only knew that the magic here was based off of Anri. What the locals called the Myriad Energies.
Perhaps there was a connection. Perhaps there wasn't. Joseph didn't care.
He took a deep breath. Worked to calm himself down. Elenry, back at Castle Belenus, had been helping him with anger management techniques. He breathed in. Out. Decided to justify the local's suspicion in his mind. They weren't used to strangers, and in certain places, strangers meant danger. He couldn't blame them for wanting to ensure that he wasn't going to do anything to them.
(Though the fact that he could hurt them always whispered in the back of his mind.)
They would, hopefully, come to ignore him. With time. Once they realized that he was just a simple researcher.
He made a note of what to do tomorrow. The town had a library. Great. Joseph had spent half of his life in the multiverse at the Amber Foundation's library, trying to piece together a way back to Earth. To be told, he was sick of it.
But, it was a place to start. A place to publicly show his face. Maybe people wouldn't be as guarded if he showed that he was just another person to them. He was no danger.
He turned in early for the night. He was still tired after traveling here. Still rankled, just a bit, at the way they had all stared at him downstairs. Like he had two heads.
He was just another person, he told himself.
Just another person.
***
Joseph got up in the morning just as dawn heralded the day. He got dressed, tied his hair up with clumsy fingers (he had never been good at doing his hair up like this) and went downstairs. Guo Kenan wasn't out of bed yet, but his daughter, Guo Liling, was there with breakfast.
“Thanks,” Joseph said.
It was a rice porridge, and he ate quietly, keeping to himself at a table in the corner of the room. Guo Liling, who was around his age, kept glancing his way, and eventually, her face flushed red, had to excuse herself as go into the other room.
Everyone else had gone home. Joseph was alone.
After finishing his breakfast, Joseph rose. Walked out into the Opal Hills, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the morning sun. A few people were already up and about – farmers rose with the dawn, to have as much daylight to work their fields. A few of the village's children were already playing, laughing and dancing down the road leading to the inn.
One of them stopped. A younger kid, maybe around ten. He adjusted his glasses as he stepped over to look hard at Joseph.
“Hey,” Joseph said, “What's up?”
“'What's up?'” the kid asked.
“It's... a figure of speech,” Joseph said, “Where I'm from.”
“Oh,” the kid said.
“Hey,” Joseph said, “You know where the library is?”
The kid hesitated. Joseph didn't blame him. He could see the kid's friends had hidden themselves behind a building, peeking out to watch Joseph as he talked.
“It's...” the kid said, “Down the road. On the right. By my father's house.”
“Awesome,” Joseph said, “Thanks.”
He flashed the kid a smile. Fished out a bronze coin, and flipped it to him. The kid snatched it out of the air, watching with wide eyes as Joseph set off down the road.
After a few moments, he followed after Joseph.
The metahuman looked back, eyebrow raised, and the kid stopped in his tracks. With a nervous shiver, the kid adjusted his glasses.
“What's up?” Joseph asked.
“I...” the kid stammered, “I w-wanted to know. What did you need the library for?”
“Oh,” Joseph said, “I'm, ah, only looking for a few things. Scrolls on the recent history of the Opal Hills. The natural landscape around here, caves and the like. You know what I'm talking about?”
“My father doesn't let me go into caves,” the kid said, “He said they're dangerous.”
“They could be,” Joseph said, “But, gotta get my research in, right?”
He offered a friendly smile. The kid twisted his shirt. Adjusted his glasses again.
“C-Can,” he said, “Can I go with you?”
Joseph blinked.
“You sure about that?” he said, “I mean, your dad's good with it?”
“My father,” the kid said, “Is Wang Ro the Elder. He goes to the library often. I would not be surprised if he was already there.”
“Your father,” Joseph said.
“Yes.”
“And... What's your name?”
“I am Wang Ro the Younger.”
“Right. Wang Ro the Elder. Makes sense,” Joseph noted that Wang Ro the Younger's friends were still watching them, trying to hide behind the inn. The way they stared at him like he was some sort of spectacle...
He looked at the kid.
“Do what you want,” he said, a bit annoyed, “You can help. Or don't, and just look at me like I have two heads. Up to you.”
And he turned. And started talking.
After a moment's hesitation, Wang Ro the Younger followed him.
***
Tai Haoran got up early in the morning, just before dawn, to work his daily warm ups. On certain days, he would go down to the town to help the widow Bai Lanfen with her chickens, with tending to her one, frail cow, and with chopping firewood so she and her infant son would be warm at night. Bai Lanfen's husband, Bai Delun, had died last year after a run in with some bandits on his way back from Old Gate City. A freak occurrence, as bandits did not often roam the Opal Hills, preferring the more prosperous routes from Old Gate City to the Imperial Capital.
And yet, the rarity of the event did not assuage Bai Lanfen, who jabbered at Tai Haoran as they worked.
“That traveler, Zheng Jo?” she said, “He isn't a danger to us, is he?”
“I still don't know,” Tai Haoran said, “If he is, I don't think it's in the way a bandit is dangerous.”
Bai Lanfen shivered.
“He is an Anri user, then,” she said, “Like you. He uses the mystical arts.”
“I don't know that, either,” Tai Haoran said, a bit irritated. He was placing a log onto the chopping block. With a swift stroke, he brought a hand down, chopping it in two.
He could have used an axe. Most did. But Tai Haoran was an arrogant fellow, who liked moving his body, liked the way his muscles burned after use, the way sweat shined on his bare chest. He smirked at the way that Bai Lan, and others in the town, looked at him when he was like this. Some averted their gazes. Others watched him like he was dinner.
Bai Lan was the former. She was looking out, past the sun just barely walking over the horizon. Lost in memories.
“I'm scared, Tai Haoran,” she said.
And he felt guilty for showing himself off so.
“...I know,” he said, “But don't worry. If he tries anything, if he is an Anri user, I'll be there. I'll get Xiao Rai to help.”
“That girl is trouble,” Bai Lan warned, “Watch yourself with her.”
At this, he gave a haughty smile.
“Please,” he said, “Xiao Rai is two realms below me. She is nothing but a novice.”
He finished chopping the last log of wood. He gave a bow to the widow, deeper than he should have for one of his station, and made his leave.
He saw Zheng Jo with Wang Ro the Younger as he turned and went down one of the streets.
***
Well now, Joseph supposed, this was trouble.
The man from the inn was making a beeline for him. Joseph didn't need to know about Anri users to know that he was bad news. He was easily one of the most built people Joseph had ever seen, chiseled and muscular from a lifetime of martial arts. The man obviously knew this, too, because he always went shirtless everywhere, his tiger-like eyes narrowing at Joseph as he approached.
“Greetings,” the man said.
“Hey,” Joseph said.
“Where are you and Wang Ro the Younger going?”
“To the library,” Joseph said, “I want to get some initial research done.”
“The library.”
“Yes,” Joseph said, “Is that a problem?”
And the man took a sharp breath, his brow furrowing at the blatant challenge. But this was still a land of civility, Anri and martial arts and testosterone be damned.
“No,” he said, “I suppose not.”
Joseph smirked at that.
“I wish to accompany you,” the man said.
He tilted his head a bit.
“Is that a problem?”
“...No,” Joseph said, keeping his voice level, “Can I have your reasoning? It's just a bunch of musty old scrolls.”
“Well,” the man said, and he puffed his glistening chest, “The great Tai Haoran always likes reading. It pays to strengthen the mind in addition to the body.”
He smiled down at Joseph's side.
“Is that not correct, Ro?”
Wang Ro the Younger nodded at that. And smiled. He liked this Tai Haoran, didn't he?
“Y-Yes,” he said, “I believe my father will be there as well.”
“Ah, good, two birds and one stone,” Tai Haoran said, “I wanted to talk to Wang Ro the Elder about my medicine.”
And he turned to Joseph.
“After you, Zheng Jo.”
***
The library was a sparse place, for the knowledge of the Opal Hills was in the way farmers tended to their crops, in stories passed from parent to child about the dangers of the wood, in holiday rituals to appease the spirits of the land, wind, and river. The scrolls and butterfly-bound books were from Wang Ro the Elder's personal collection, as well as a few scant donations from Pan Baihu's ancestral records, back when the family was more prominent and had more to record than the few taxes they paid to the capital.
Zheng Jo walked into the single room, looking around. There were two tables, though only a single chair. Wang Ro the Elder was at one of the tables, one of the scrolls unfurled by a cup of tea. He looked up at the three of them as they walked in, a shadow of a smile flickering to his face.
“Ah, my son. Tai Haoran.”
His eyes shifted to the newcomer, and Wang Ro the Younger noted something glimmering in his father's eye.
“Zheng Jo.”
“Hey,” Zheng Jo said, “I'm here to look over what you have.”
“Of course, Zheng Jo,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “As you can see, there isn't much.”
“That's alright,” Zheng Jo said, “I'm mostly looking for maps of the surrounding area.”
“Maps?” Wang Ro the Elder said.
“Yeah,” Zheng Jo said, “A lot of my research is going to take me out into the wilds, I was wanting to see if there was anything here that could help with that.”
Wang Ro the Elder paused for a second, taking a sip of his tea.
“Maps,” he repeated, “Well, nothing off the top of my head. But they should be here. My son, will you assist us with this?”
“O-Oh,” Wang Ro the Younger said, “Yes, father.”
“Good,” Wang Ro the Elder rose from his seat, and crossed over to the other side of the room, taking a few scrolls for their honeycombs, “It will take a while, Zheng Jo. Our collection is small, but its information runs deep.”
“That's alright,” Zheng Jo said, “I had a feeling this would take up most of the day. Most of my research does.”
“Ah, a learner of the world,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “Would that there were more of you.”
He unfurled a scroll. Started reading it.
“Shall we get to work?”
***
Zheng Jo was meticulous.
He had them start organizing the scrolls, giving a quick read-through each one and putting them into one of two piles. Those he would read more closely, and those that just needed a cursory glance. Those scrolls with maps he kept, putting them into a third pile. Tai Haoran, as the tallest of the group, grabbed those scrolls on the top cubbies, pulling them down and presenting them to Zheng Jo, who opened them, pored over their contents, and sorted them.
“You are certainly industrious,” the Anri user said to the newcomer, “Do you do much research back at Old Gate City?”
“...Yes,” Zheng Jo said. He had taken a scroll, his electric eyes scanning over the writing, before he closed it up and put it in one of the piles, “For a while, all I did between jobs was read at the library.”
“What were you studying?” Tai Haoran asked.
“...Nothing of any real importance,” Zheng Jo said, “It didn't go anywhere, if I'm being honest. I realized my place was with my... with the trading company.”
He looked over one of the scrolls. Noted that Tai Haoran was still looking at him. That his answer was insufficient. The traveler sighed.
“I'm not native to Old Gate City,” he said, “I come from... far away, we'll say. It's hard to get home. I tried very hard to find a way to get back.”
“Why did you not use your feet?” Tai Haoran asked, “Walk the breadth of Dà Xiàng, and see the sights of the world?”
“Ha,” Zheng Jo said, “Getting home is... a bit more complicated than that. But... I see what you mean. It's what I'm doing now.”
He looked hard at Tai Haoran.
“Is that what you want to do? Travel the world?”
Tai Haoran's eyes widened for a second, before his brow furrowed once more. He had not had such a question asked of him before.
“I...” he said, thinking, “Want to learn the White Flame Technique. Become the Grandmaster of the White Flame Sect. When I have surmounted all realms, perhaps I will travel. I will show the world the glory of the White Flame. Shame the emperor, if I am able. He has...”
He grimaced. Looked away.
“He has hurt my master so.”
Zheng Jo considered Tai Haoran. The hard look he had been shooting at the Anri user lessened.
“I get it,” he said, “Grandmaster Zhou, right? Picked you up off the ground, dusted you off, made you something new?”
And at that, Tai Haoran snorted.
“I don't need to justify myself to you,” he said.
“You don't have to,” Zheng Jo said, “I have someone like your master, at the trading company.”
“Is he of a sect?”
“No,” Zheng Jo said, “He's just a man. But... I owe him my life.”
He smiled. Tai Haoran’s glare, too, dropped. For a moment, they seemed to come to some sort of understanding. Then, they continued sorting.
***
They worked long into the day. Much of the information in the library was census-based. The population of Opal Hills, which currently sat at around two hundred people tucked away in the mountains. The spirits, three of whom were rather prominent, one in the woods, one in the mountains, and one in the nearby river. There were harvest records, some good and some bad. A few writings and musings from governors past, all of them of the Pan family. Some poetry from Lo Ru, the great-grandfather of Lo Qiu, who had served as a soldier and returned home to live his days as a PTSD-ridden veteran (judging by the rather macabre topics he chose to write on.)
There were two maps of the Opal Hills, and one map of the province as a whole. The first map was relatively recent, conveying the current roads and having a rough idea of elevations. The second (and more useful) map was old, very old, from when the Opal Hills was a prosperous mining colony. Joseph took it, reading it over. If he were a Darwinist, he'd want to hide the project away from prying eyes. Especially if it was something that was technologically advanced.
“Are the mines still open?” Zheng Jo asked, turning to Wang Ro the Elder.
The physician adjusted his glasses, looking down at the map.
“No,” he said, “Though you'd need to talk to Pan Baihu about that. Most of them, if I recall correctly, were shut down many years ago.”
Zheng Jo looked at the map. Nodded.
“Right,” he said, “Is it alright if I take this map here?”
“Oh?”
“I'd just be borrowing it,” Zheng Jo said, “I want to use it when I go out to survey tomorrow.”
“You're going tomorrow?” Wang Ro the Elder said, “Young master, I wouldn't.”
“Why not?”
“I must insist, as the physician of this town, that you don't leave unless you have someone to guide you.”
Zheng Jo's eyes narrowed.
“I can take care of myself just fine,” he said.
“I'm sure you can,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “But the Opal Hills may seem serene, but they can be dangerous. Landslides are common. Bears stalk the wood. Even the spirits can be restless, this time of year, and if you don't have someone who knows the proper way to appease them, they could get violent.”
Zheng Jo regarded Wang Ro the Elder with a dark look. Wang Ro the Younger was stepping away from the two of them. Tai Haoran was sizing Zheng Jo up.
“Is that a problem?” Tai Haoran asked.
“...I suppose what you're saying's got logic to it,” Zheng Jo said.
“Good,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “Now, I am amenable to being your guide, but I will be busy tomorrow with my medicines. I won't be available until the day after. Is that alright with you? It will let you get used to the town. You could explore there. My son would accompany you, if you so wish.”
“...Sure,” Zheng Jo said, “That's fine.”
He awkwardly looked down at the map.
“It'd be good to compile some sources anyways,” he said, “Give me time to talk to townsfolk, too.”
“I'll start preparing supplies for a little expedition,” Wang Ro the Elder said, smiling, “Fear not, Zheng Jo. I've lived in the Opal Hills for over twenty-five years. You won't find a better guide.”