The light of dawn filtered through the sky as the thick clouds dispersed to welcome the new day. The large raindrops morphed into tiny dew drops, and the white blanket of mist gave way to reveal lush plains and agricultural lands. At the center of this scene stood a solitary, one-story cottage made of a mix of wood and bricks. The brick walls were interspersed with occasional wooden pillars, giving the structure a rustic charm. The triangular roof, constructed from wooden beams and smooth, flat wooden shingles, efficiently directed rainwater down its sides.

One part of the wall protruded outward in a narrow, square shape, emitting a thin plume of smoke from the chimney. Nearby, a square-shaped wooden plank was propped halfway up from the wall with a stick, resting on a narrow ledge. This plank served as a secondary cover for the window, used for added protection when necessary. Normally, the smooth wooden window slats provided the main cover. When extra security was needed, the stick would be removed, allowing the heavy wooden plank to be lowered and secured against the wall.

After a while, the window slats were raised, jumbling together at the top like a shutter.

"The weather seems to be clearing," came a deep male voice from the other side of the window. A man wearing a dark hood, with half his face obscured by it, was looking out at the dreamy view. His thick, brown beard poked through the hood like stubborn brambles forcing their way through a barrier.

"Is that so," responded another voice, this one calm and soft. This man, also wearing a dark robe but with his hood down, was seated on a chair, legs crossed, sipping from a cup. His blue eyes were deeply focused on a paper in his other hand. His short, dark brown hair was neatly combed back. The room was spacious yet sparsely furnished with a single bed, a few chairs, and a table with a lantern in front of the blue-eyed man. A fireplace burned behind him, adding a warm, dim light where the lantern's glow didn't reach.

The lantern's light reflected off a mess of papers on the table, with words jumbled together, clearly intended to obscure their true meaning. Among the clutter were some animal hides with a detailed map drawn on them, different shaped wooden pins marking various locations.

After a few moments, the man ceased sipping, gently placed his cup on the table, and rose to his feet. He shuffled under his robe and pulled out a small, arcane device. It was roughly palm-sized, made of a dark, glossy material that shimmered faintly with an ethereal light. Two slender antennas extended from its top, catching the ambient light in delicate glints. The front featured a rectangular glass screen with runic symbols that softly glowed, while the sides were adorned with small, intricate wheels and buttons, each inscribed with tiny, meticulous runes.

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The man’s fingers deftly manipulated the right wheel, causing the symbols on the screen to shift and change. With a practiced motion, he pressed the button at the back, and the symbols locked in place. His left hand moved to the opposite wheel, navigating through different sets of runes until he found the desired sequence.

Three small, cylindrical rolls at the bottom of the device began to spin under his touch, each clicking into place with a distinct pattern. The man’s eyes remained focused as he carefully crafted a message, each combination of symbols representing a coded word. Once satisfied, he pressed the button again to confirm the final sequence.

Taking a deep breath, he extended his hand, and a soft, blue energy began to emanate from his fingertips. The energy flowed gracefully, like a gentle stream, and was absorbed by the device, causing the runes to pulse with a vibrant glow. With a final, deliberate press of the button, the device hummed softly, and the blue energy faded, signifying that the message had been sent.

He reached beneath his robe and pulled out a medium-sized leather bag. Rolling up the map, he hooked it onto a leather strip where a feather quill was also attached, then placed the wooden pins in one of the smaller pockets inside the bag. Next, he carefully slipped the arcane device into another pocket, ensuring it was secure.

He pulled a small leather string to tighten the bag and fastened it to his belt. As he did so, faint runes etched into the leather began to glow softly, their light pulsing gently in the dim light, imbuing the bag with an aura of mystiqueness.

Twisting a key on the side, he extinguished the lantern's flame. He then gathered the papers and walked towards the fireplace. One by one, he fed the papers into the fire, watching them turn to ash. After waiting for the papers to burn completely, he moved to a wall opposite the window. There, he pushed a wooden slat up from the side of the wall and pulled a handle.

Light flooded in, carrying the scent of wet earth. Muddy holes from the recent rain still dotted the ground, and a path stretched forward with wet grass on either side. A light drizzle continued, droplets falling on the man’s slicked-back hair. He tilted his head up, squinting at the sky. With a swift motion, he pulled his hood up and declared, “Let’s go.”

The man with the brown beard closed the door, moved the metallic hasp, and secured it with a key in the staple lock. He turned around and began following the blue-eyed man, both disappearing into the misty morning