(Aurea POV)

A few hours ago…

“Mors, I’m going to be gone for a little while,” I told the Deathwalker.

“Hmm?” he said, looking up from the book he had been studying. “Where are you going?”

“Maplepost. There are a few things I need to take care of there.”

“I’ll go with you,” he replied, standing up from his chair and taking off the reading glasses he had been wearing.

“No. I need to do this alone. Plus, Evan wanted you to stay here with the elves.”

Mors hesitated, clearly reluctant to let me leave on my own. “At least take some of the golems with you,” he said, finally relenting.

I rolled my eyes but agreed to his request. Heading back to my cabin, I looked around the organized interior. Spotting my gear, I strapped on my dagger to the right side of my hip, slipping it into its thick leather sheath. A thick pair of gloves, my coat, and extra provisions were tossed into a knapsack which I slung over my shoulder. As an afterthought, I took the pistol and holster that Evan had made for me and fastened it to the other side of my hip. Looking at myself in the mirror that Evan had made for me before he left, I examined my appearance.

My dark brown hair had been tied in a tight bun to keep it out of my eyes, and I noted the dark circles underneath them. My arms had grown more muscular over the last few months from my training, and the cut that I had gotten on my leg was only a pale white scar now. I realized I looked more rugged and worn out than I had ever been before, and I resolved to take a proper break sometime soon.

Heading out, I went down to the mine entrance to talk to one of Evan’s golems.

“Hi Boar,” I said with a friendly wave.

The hulking golem standing guard at the mine entrance looked at me. “Identity confirmed. Hello, Aurea. How may I assist you today?”

“I am going out for a little while, and Mors said to take some golems with me as guards.”

“What is your destination and task?”

“I’m just going to Maplepost to deal with some stuff. It should only take about a day.”

Boar stayed silent for a few moments, as if he were deep in thought. “Destination threat assessment: Low. High priority individual…Assigning 20 Dianmu Gunners and 10 Enforcers as security.”

“What!” I exclaimed in surprise. “No no no, that is way too many!”

“As previously stated, you are a high priority individual.”

“I’m not taking an entire army with me!”

Boar fell silent again before responding. “How much protection do you believe you need?”

“How about 2 Gunners?”

“That would provide very little protection.”

“Well, think about it this way,” I said in my most convincing tone, “Bringing a ton of guards would just attract a ton of attention, which might put me in more danger. Plus, it’s just Maplepost. What's the worst that could happen there?”

“...Understood. You will be provided with two Dianmu Gunners. Reinforcements will be sent in the case of an emergency.”

“Thanks,” I exhaled in relief. Sometimes, trying to convince these golems was harder than drawing blood from a stone.

Heavy thunks echoed in the tunnel as two of the golems were activated. Even though I knew that the bulky golems were friendly, their menacing appearances did nothing to ease my mind. Without any preamble, they stood uncomfortably close to my sides, almost squishing me in between their metal bodies.

“Hey, no offense, but would you mind giving me a little space?” I asked politely. Looking at me, my guards scooted away just slightly. With a resigned expression, I said my farewells to Boar and started the hike towards my hometown. With winter setting in, the mornings had been filled with fog and mist, and the water had condensed onto every leafy and stem. Some of it had collected into puddles, and the muddy terrain slowed my progress. What normally would have been a quick trip took over an hour, and I very nearly slipped a few times.

When I finally broke through the treeline and spotted the village, I was dirty and tired. The golems were unfazed by the mud that caked their legs, and I envied them for a few seconds.

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Unpleasant memories flooded my mind as I looked over the open fields that surrounded the village, and it took some effort to force them down. Grabbing a piece of dried meat from my bag, I sat down against a tree to rest for a bit before I entered the village. The jerky was delicious, and I once again wondered why Evan’s food always tasted better than everyone else’s. Last time I asked him, he mumbled something about “science” and “molecular gastronomy”. Like most things he said, I didn’t really understand it, but I learned to just accept things as they came.

Taking one last swig of water from my canteen, I stood up and brushed off my pants. Looking at the village, I considered just walking in through the palisade gate, but I immediately shot that idea down. I didn’t want to attract attention to myself.

Deciding to scout around for another entrance, I circled the village from a distance. On the opposite side of the entrance, I saw a couple logs in the palisade were rotten and crumbling.

“Stay here,” I told my guards. After a moment’s hesitation, I decided to leave my bag with the golems, dropping it on the ground next to them.

“We cannot leave your side.”

“You’ll make too much noise. That’s an order.”

“...Understood. We will wait here and await further instructions.”

Dashing across the flat terrain, I used my knife to dig away at the fragile wood until a hole large enough for me to fit through was made. I shoved my way through, and realized I had ended up in a small chicken enclosure. The chickens had crowded on the opposite side of the pen, each one keeping their beady eyes on me. Gingerly stepping over the fence, I poked my head around the house to figure out where I was.

“If this is the back, then this should be the Giarda home…and that should be the Dillia home over there…”

Once I had gotten my bearings, I headed towards the west side of the village. Whenever I heard a muffled conversation or shuffling footsteps, I made sure to sneak by as quietly as I could. It wasn’t too difficult, as the squawking and grunting of the livestock along with my intimate knowledge of the village made it pretty easy to avoid detection.

Stepping out from a back street, I looked upon the reason for my trip: my old home. While the timber frame and walls remained strong, the fallen fence and completely overgrown pathway made it obvious that nobody had visited in a long time. Slowly walking over, I reminisced on years passed. Everything here, from the tanning rack I worked with, to the old tree I used to play on, held a special place in my heart. But seeing them made gut-wrenching grief surge and crash like a tsunami. I was forced to clench my teeth and fists to stop myself from breaking down.

Suddenly, I stepped on something soft and squishy. Looking down, I realized it was an old doll in the shape of a brown dog my dad had made for me when I was younger. I gently picked it up, inspecting the torn stitches and worn fabric.

“A special gift for a special little girl,” his voice echoed in my mind.

Tears pricked the edges of my eyes, and I blinked faster to stop them from spilling. Forging on, I pushed open the door, the hinges letting out a loud creak. A fine layer of dust had collected over the furniture, which included a small writing table, two beds, and wooden chest with the lid wide open. My eyes caught on the fireplace, the old iron pot reflecting the light that had come through the doorway. Like everything else, dust had accumulated on its surface, but it was surprisingly rust free, with only a few patches having developed on the edges.

Stray stalks of hay stuck out from the beds, and a few strands had fallen to the floor. I furrowed my brows when I realized the beds seemed out of place. Walking over, the feeling of dread increased when I saw a plank of wood from the floor had been tossed to the side from between the beds. My heart froze when I rushed over and realized that the floorboards had been pried apart, leaving scattered splinters and nails strewn across the ground.

Dropping to my knees, I shoved my hand into the space beneath the floorboards, searching wildly. Feeling something hard with sharp edges, I grabbed on and pulled it out. In the faint light, I saw a wooden strongbox with ornately carved griffins around the edges. The lid had been shattered with some sort of blunt item, leaving jagged edges around the hole. Droplets of blood dripped from where the splinters had punctured my skin, but I was too busy to notice. Holding it above my head, I shook the strongbox and waited, but nothing fell out.

Yelling with rage, I threw the strongbox at the wall. A loud clack rang out, and the strongbox cracked even further.

“I swear to the fucking Mother, if they fucking did this…” I thought furiously, storming out of the house. I had a suspicion as to who had stolen the items from the strongbox, and I’d be damned if I didn’t give him a piece of my mind.

I ran towards the center of the village, giving up on any pretenses of stealth or subtlety. I occasionally passed by another villager who would invariably stand in shock at seeing me. Upon seeing the smithy located near the center of the village, I clenched my teeth and kicked the door open.

“What the fuck!” someone shouted from inside. Turning the corner, I ran right into the burly blacksmith, the soot from his apron and gloves billowing out.

“Who the hell…” he trailed off when he saw me. “Aurea?” he asked confusedly.

Grabbing him by the lapels of his shirt, I pulled his face close to mine. “Where’s your nephew, Boras?”

“You mean Jax?” he said, still in shock at my sudden appearance.

I rolled my eyes at his question. “Unless your brother has been fucking some women from the grave, you shouldn’t have any other ones! Answer my damn question already!”

“Uh, he should be practicing with the dummies right now…but never mind that, what are you doing here?!?”

Shoving him away, I stormed out the smithy.

“Hey Aurea!” he called out, struggling to untie his apron. I ignored his call, and left a cloud of dust as I dashed off. Running at full speed, it only took me a few minutes to reach the small training area that the boys of the village often hung out at. Even from a distance, I heard the dull thunk of wood hitting wood.

Turning the corner, I laid my eyes on a familiar figure. Jax, a hulking young man with light brown hair and a large nose, panted as he rested his hands on his knees. In the back of my mind, I noted that he held a worn wooden sword in his left, but my attention was drawn to the glint of metal that hung around his neck.