Ryuk’s excitement was almost palpable as Song Ran’s floating cloud took them down to the village. Down below, the festivities were already in full swing. Multi-colored lanterns lit up the usually dark streets of the village. Stalls manned by lively vendors hawking all types of festival foods filled the streets, villagers of all ages dressed in their festival finest roamed from stall to stall, celebrating a year’s worth of hard work.

“We’re here,” Song Ran said as his cloud touched down a few blocks away from the village square, drawing the attention of nearby revelers.

Kaya wheeled Ryuk off the cloud as Song Ran shooed away curious onlookers. Ryuk had never seen so many people in one place before. Oddly enough, he felt like a stranger to their festival, an unwelcome intruder almost.

Ryuk peered at the crowd, shrinking into his chair. “They’re staring,” he whispered under his breath.

“They’re not staring, I believe you’re just being paranoid,” Song Ran remarked as a glowing ring on his index finger sucked up the floating cloud.

“Is that a spatial ring? Can you let me see it, please?” Ryuk pleaded, nearly slipping out of his chair in excitement.

Song Ran hesitated momentarily before showing his ring off to Ryuk. “I found it during my stint in the military, spatial rings are hard to come by and I was lucky enough to find this off a dead storm guard.”

“It doesn’t look very impressive – wait! Storm guard extermination campaign? You were a part of the extermination force? Father told me you had served under him before but I never knew you were with him during the extermination campaign!” Kaya watched Ryuk rave about the storm guard with muted curiosity, she had never seen him so excited before.

“Well, I guess a little story wouldn’t hurt. I was a lieutenant in the imperial vanguard. Your father was only a commander at the time and we were given the impossible task of taking the head of the storm guard general himself. But we managed to pull through somehow,” he said. “I’m sure the gods themselves were with your father that day. He was unstoppable.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Ryuk slumped back in his chair. “I’ve never seen that side of Father, he’s like an emotionless construct these days.”

“Don’t be too hard on your father,” Song Ran said, giving Ryuk’s head a good tousle. “I’ll go get us some food, try not to wander too far.”

Ryuk nodded, watching Song Ran disappear into the crowd. “Let's go see what this festival has to offer,” he suggested to Kaya.

Yong staggered through the crowd, tuning out the sounds of the festival – The incessant chatter, the laughter of boisterous children, the hazy cloud of alcohol and misery proved to be an effective barrier.

He was in no mood to enjoy the village festival, there were more pressing matters on his mind. Just three days ago he was the deputy headmaster of the tinker’s guild in the Jinsan branch. It came as a complete shock when he was transferred to Rasu, a small village out in the hicks.

He had spent a decade in Jinsan scheming and conniving for the hall master position, a decade now spent in a fruitless endeavor. His promotion was in name only, he may now be the hall master of Rasu but what use is the position if he’s the only member of the branch.

The people of Rasu were simple folk. They lived their quaint, small village lives in frugality. Hardly tinker material. He needed someone with a sharp intellect. Someone with a bright mind, and unfortunately those were in short supply in Rasu.

He had gone door to door scouting possible recruits, only to be disappointed by the lack of suitable prospects. Most of the village brats in Rasu couldn’t read, much less be expected to keep up with a tinker’s regimen.

Yong needed someone with higher education. A noble’s second son, or the offspring of a wealthy merchant, unfortunately, those too were in short supply. He had considered holding an audience with the local ruler, Runan, but he would be of no help. Runan was a soldier at heart, and everyone knew soldiers hated tinkers.

“Let's go see what this festival has to offer,” said a gloomy young boy in a wheelchair. Yong would’ve been content to ignore the boy and move on if it wasn’t for his pale, pasty complexion and fine robes. The hallmarks of a young noble lad. He was also a cripple, a rather pitiful one too. Yong could imagine the poor boy suffered greatly from his lack of functioning limbs, perhaps…

Yong, you dashing genius, you’ve done it again, Yong thought, callously inspecting the noble lad as his brain hatched a marvelous plan. Taking a brief moment to press back his hair and readjust his robes, he approached the boy with his best smile.

“Good day young man, enjoying the festival I hope? I couldn’t help but notice you could use a hand.”