Returning to the village after hours of work in the mining area, Jonn and Eliot were quite dirty. One carried the work tools, and the other pushed a cart piled with rocks.
Petyr had left the day before to hunt a group of animals after finding paw prints near the plantation area outside the greenhouse. With his departure alongside two helpers, Jonn and Eliot were left alone to manage the heavy mining work for Tim.
Old Tim should have some blades ready by tomorrow.
As the white-painted houses of the village came into view, Jonn didn’t appear as tired as Eliot, who was carrying tools in two cloth bags. Even while hauling a cart with 30 kilos of rocks, Jonn seemed full of energy.
Eliot didn’t find Jonn’s stamina strange. From the early days of mining, the Village Elder had seemed to possess remarkable endurance. This had accustomed the black-haired boy, and he hadn’t questioned his friend’s strength and stamina.
Jonn wasn’t concerned about revealing more than he should have. His growth in strength was gradual enough that he didn’t worry about appearing to be getting stronger too quickly. Even though it had been another three days since his sudden improvement in [Intelligence] and [Wisdom], he had only evolved between 0.2 and 0.3 points in his physical attributes during it.
During these days, his main focus had been on mining the rock they had already discovered. As a result, Jonn had few opportunities for observations with his {Skills}. Since he had used little of his mana, there was no stimulation for any improvement in his mental attributes.
But Jonn wasn’t worried. As much as he was interested in growing stronger, his priority was acquiring weapons and getting Petyr back. With the start of the village militia’s training, he hoped to make progress on his available {Quest}.
Upon arriving in front of Tim’s house, Jonn felt the heat from the forge furnace and spotted the white-haired old man hammering away at a glowing piece of metal.
“Old Tim, we’re here with another load. That’s the last one for today,” Jonn called out, finally catching the eye of the man dressed in an apron, wielding two tools as he worked the burning metal.
Tim nodded at Jonn and Eliot without engaging in conversation. Meanwhile, Eliot dumped the rocks in the designated area, leaving them for Tim to process later.
Tim had already made significant progress in his work, as he had started this process a few days ago. The fiery ingot he was working on wasn’t the most advanced piece of iron he had. As Jonn walked around the back of the old blacksmith’s house, he spotted what would soon be the first sword produced from the iron of the Limonite rock.
“Your sword will be ready tomorrow, Village Elder,” said a woman sitting in a rocking chair, sewing what appeared to be a coat.
“Aunt Molle,” Jonn greeted her with a nod, then accepted some water from her.
“How’s the crop?” she asked. “My husband only talks about mining and weapons production… Sigh! He’s as eager as I’ve ever seen him.”
Despite Molle’s sigh, she was genuinely pleased to see her husband active again. It gave her more energy to handle the village’s daily challenges.
“I’d say it’s going well,” Jonn said to her, sitting down next to Molle and glancing in Tim’s direction. “But it’s going to take a while to show results. The faster plants should take two months to bear fruit, while the slower ones will take twice that. We’ll have a better idea of their potential after that.”
“It’s not that long, you know?” She smiled, revealing her clear teeth. “Four months go by in the blink of an eye when you’re my age.”
Jonn smiled back as he stood up. “But you’re still young. Aunt Molle. 62 isn’t much. I bet you’ll still be looking after old Tim for another 30 years.”
She laughed at his optimistic comment. Rarely did anyone in the village live past 65. This was the case even before the calamity brought on by the Third Magic War, and few had much hope of living beyond that.
Hewet was an exception, but he wasn’t exactly a native of the village. He had arrived in the area just over 40 years ago and had his own secrets.
Stolen novel; please report.
Stopping at the door of Molle’s and Tim’s house, Jonn was contemplating his next move when suddenly Alise came running from the east of the village.
Beside her was an unmounted horse, marked with several wounds. It looked agitated, but had somehow found its way back to the village.
“Help! Help me!” Alise shouted as she ran towards the center of the village, drawing the attention of the locals, who soon appeared at their doorsteps on this warm late afternoon.
Jonn ran towards the girl, his eyebrows furrowed tightly. It didn’t take him long to grasp the seriousness of the situation.
“Eliot, get weapons for us!” Jonn said aloud as he stopped a few meters from Alise, signaling the horse to calm down.
The creature was frightened and obviously in pain, but it calmed before stopping in front of Jonn. The animal felt his touch, momentarily surprising Alise, who was afraid of the animal.
Although she seemed to be guiding the horse part of the way, she was actually running from the horse in search of help.
“What happened? Where did you find him?” Jonn asked as Lance, Molle, and four other villagers gathered around the horse.
Alise, catching her breath, explained, “I was fishing in the east lake when my father spotted this horse. He went to see what it was, and then I saw him running back, wounded, warning me to return to the village. The horse followed me during my escape, and that’s all I know.”
The look on Alise’s face was pale, her eyes red with tears trickling from their corners.
Molle hugged the girl tightly, while the men who had heard Alise’s account worried about what might have happened.
“That’s the horse Tedric rides,” said one of the village animal caretakers, recognizing a birthmark below the brown horse’s left eye.
“That’s a problem… Could they have been attacked by beasts?” Lance feared the worst, uneasy about the horse’s condition.
If a horse had ended up like that, then what would be the fate of his rider? A single cut like those on the horse would be enough to incapacitate an ordinary person. Near ferocious creatures, few would have good prospects injured even if they escaped immediate death.
“Let’s not rush to conclusions,” Jonn tried to reassure his fellow villagers. “I’ll go with Eliot to see what might have happened.”
Turning to Alise, he assured her, “First, we’ll go to the east lake and try to find Uncle Beri. Once we’ve found him, I’ll send Eliot back with him. Then I’ll follow the tracks of Petyr’s group. They shouldn’t be far from the lake.”
Asher, Petyr’s cousin, added as he approached the wounded horse, “Petyr has a hideout south of the lake where hunters usually spend the night when they’ve been hunting for more than a few days in the vicinity. It’s possible he retreated there if something happened.”
Seeing Asher ready to join him, Jonn nodded as Eliot arrived with a rusty sword, a silver spear in better condition, and a bow with 12 wooden arrows.
Grabbing the spear, Jonn watched as Asher took the sword, and Eliot took the bow. “Everyone who isn’t essential should stay indoors for the next few hours. Lance, I want you and someone else to keep an eye on the crops outside the greenhouse.”
“We’ll do that.”
“Good luck. I hope whatever it was only scared us,” Molle said, her heart pounding as she continued to hug Alise.
Jonn nodded, handing the wounded horse to the animal caretaker, then ran eastward with his two companions.
Elia stayed behind, watching her ‘competitor’ head towards danger, soon reinforcing his advice for everyone to stay inside their homes.
Apart from the village’s hunters, most villagers had only amateur experience wielding weapons, though some were more skilled because of their tool work. Jonn, Eliot, and Asher were the youngest and physically strongest, so no one stopped them from venturing into danger.
Jonn led his companions, his heart pounding in his chest as they quickly left the village domain, a small area of about 5 square kilometers. Beyond this boundary lay the old fences that marked the beginning and end of the Eternal Village.
The east lake was more than an hour’s walk away, so Jonn and his two companions had time to calm their emotions and watch the night draw in as the sound of moving water gradually became more noticeable.
To the east of the village lay a large lake and a river that flowed from the northern edge of the Barren Hills of Deepshadow to the southern edge, with two springs and secondary rivers. Near these rivers were some of the most important Royal Roads in the region, frequented monthly by merchants traveling to or from their cities.
To the west of the village was a smaller lake, about a three-hour walk away, along with roads leading north and south. This area was more remote, even further from the remnants of civilizations left over from the Third Magic War. This contrasted with the eastern part of the village, where one could reach the remaining civilization after a five-week journey by carriage.
At least, that’s what Hewet’s diary suggested, though Jonn wasn’t entirely certain. He and all the current members of the village had never ventured beyond the confines of the Barren Hills of Deepshadow. Those who had interacted with merchants had learned little about the world beyond. All they knew was that human groups still dominated certain areas in Valorian.
After more than an hour of running from the village to the lake, Jonn, Eliot, and Asher arrived at the shore where Alise's and Beri’s boat was moored on the sand.
Jonn didn’t need the Celestial Magnifying Glass to understand what had transpired. Eliot pointed to fresh, blood-smeared footprints, indicating the direction they needed to follow.
After five minutes of running near the lake, they heard grunting sounds, prompting them to slow down and grip their weapons tightly.
As they cautiously climbed the small hill ahead, Jonn was the first to witness the plight of one of his fellow villagers.
Gulp!
The scene before him was tense. He saw a man lying on the ground, clearly injured. Nearby, a group of wild beasts was prowling, their attention momentarily diverted by the newcomers.