All the villagers stared at them, stock-still, unblinking eyes gazing to their cores. Oz forced a smile and gave a little wave, distinctly uncomfortable.

One by one, the eyes shifted away. The villagers went back about their tasks, ignoring him and Aisling once more.

“Well, that was weird,” Oz muttered. Did we immediately fail the stealth mission? Or is that just how these people greet everyone?

“Travelers?”

Oz and Aisling turned.

An old man approached them, hobbling on a rough wood staff. He gave them a few-toothed smile, his eyes barely visible under thick brows. A long beard dangled down his chest, reaching further thanks to his hunched back. “We don’t get many of you. And where’s your father, child?”

Oz looked around, then startled and looked down at himself. Right. I’m in Fflyn’s body. And Aisling is… too young to be his mom, but in this world? Probably close enough to childbearing age for them to guess it anyways.

Aisling stepped forward. “I’m his older sister. Our parents died in a demon attack.”

The old man hummed, deep in his throat. He thumped his staff on the ground. “I hope you didn’t come here looking for handouts. We have nothing to give.”

“No, no. We’re traveling… bards. And couriers. We share stories and news, and courier letters from town to town. If you have any news you’d wish to share with the other towns in the valley, we’d be happy to hear it,” Oz said.

Another hum. The man shuffled his feet, uncomfortable. He nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. Cause no trouble, and move on in due time. This village is poor, and we cannot feed two hungry outsiders for long.”

Aisling nodded, stoic. Oz nudged her. “Let’s move along. We shouldn’t trouble this man any longer.”

“It’s no trouble, no trouble at all. My apologies for the cold greeting. There was a time not long ago when we would have welcomed you gladly. But times are scarce, and disease lurks on the horizon. The people grow uneasy to see outsiders.”

Oz jolted. Right, I almost forgot. Cecil Daggarty’s hometown. The one with the odd census records. He looked at the man. “The Lafayne Region. Are we within it?”

Lifting a hand off the cane for the first time, he pointed off to the left. A lush, soft region opened up, cast into shadow by the mountains that enveloped the valley. Rolling green hills beckoned, promising food and peace.

Meeting Oz’s eyes, the old man shook his head slowly. “If you value your life, stay far away.”

“Why?” Oz asked, tilting his head like an innocent child.

The old man nodded to himself and stroked his beard. His mouth opened, but then he paused and shook his head. “Bring no trouble. Bring no trouble.”

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Without another word, he walked away.

Oz chewed his lip, his brows furrowing. “Ominous.”

“Why did you ask about the Lafayne Region?” Aisling asked.

“I… that is, Oz, noticed something in the library’s local records. There’s something off about the Lafayne Region. Someone’s been fudging the census numbers, but we don’t know who, or why.” He narrowed his eyes, gazing toward that distant, shaded region.

Aisling glanced at Oz. She leaned in, whispering in his ear. “My parents were truly travelling merchants. This town sits on the only road to the Lafayne Region.”

Oz glanced at Aisling. He raised his brows. She raised hers back.

I see. This town is the canary. If mages go to investigate the Lafayne Region, they’ll pass through this town. If they take any action here, then the mage who’s messing with the Lafayne Region hears of it, and can obscure their tracks before we arrive. That means that the best decision is to pass this town by, do nothing, make no moves, and leave no hint of our tracks.

But mages can fly. Why maintain this town as a canary, if there’s a chance mages will simply fly over?

A moment later, Oz facepalmed. Am I stupid? If mages fly overhead, the townsfolk see it and report. And that’s assuming the mage who’s hiding something didn’t set up some kind of magical trigger to catch passing mages in the air.

He leaned in toward Aisling. “Completely suppress your strength. We must leave no trace.”

Aisling nodded.

It means giving up on the mystery of the wooden puppets, but… Oz looked at the townsfolk around them. If the solution is what I think it is, we’ll find out tonight whether we want to or not.

Leaning in, Aisling glanced at the streets around them. “Should we find somewhere to sleep, or press on? Somewhere this small won’t have a tavern, so we can’t simply use coin; we’ll have to rely on the locals’ goodwill.”

“And what if we press on?” Oz murmured back.

“If we’re walking ‘like this,’ we won’t make it to the next town before nightfall. We’ll have to sleep rough unless we stay here. If we leave at dawn tomorrow, we should make it with time to spare.”

He put a hand to his chin, thinking. All at once, he nodded. “Let’s stay here. I want to move as ‘mortally’ as possible. Plus, there’s something I’m curious about with this town.”

“Understood.” Aisling stood upright. “I’ll find somewhere to sleep.”

Oz watched her go, then rocked in place, for lack of something better to do or somewhere better to go. “And I’ll stand here, I guess.”

“What’s this? Young boy, where are your parents?”

Oz turned.

A sleazy man in flashy yellow and blue clothes, leading a horse done up in bright bardings in the same colors as the man, approached Oz. Heavy packs hung from the horse’s saddle, bulging with rectangular shapes.

Oz’s eyes glittered. “Are those books?”

“Good eye, young man, good eye! Indeed! Even…” The man leaned in close. “Magical manuals, to set you on the path of the mage! What do you say? Want to try?”

Oh? He has no pressure. I wonder… Oz wandered closer, keeping the glittering eyes, and stared up at the man expectantly.

Chuckling, the man put his hands up. “Hold on, hold on. Let me get the books out of my packs!” He turned.

Using the bare minimum of qi, enough that no one could sense it unless they laid their hand on his shoulder, Oz leaned in, letting his hand brush the man’s arm, and quickly scanned the man, retracting his qi in the blink of an eye. Unless the man were the kind of unparalleled expert that could sense Oz even with his qi repressed, he would have struggled to notice the scan, so subtle was it. After all my experience with books, I’m confident that a mage of two, no, three, no, four times my level wouldn’t notice a thing, even if I scanned them directly!

He retreated a step the next moment, pretending the entire event was an accident. His brows furrowed. Completely mortal. A scammer? After all, he approached an unsupervised child. That’s not good behavior.

Interesting, interesting. I’m even more interested now.

If he’s peddling the real deal without realizing it, I’ll let him go. But if he’s really trying to scam people with fake manuals, I’ll stop him in his tracks!