Dawn sent its sheen of brilliance across the land, catching Rosaluna Galbradia seated beside the doorway of her cottage. She was in the same chair she’d occupied when hosting Mohrdrand. She didn’t look up as the light washed over her eyelids. Her eyes were closed, her hands resting on an ancient journal, its leather cover cracked with age. The skin around her eyes was red and puffy with the stain of prolonged tears.

She’d found the missing journal. But she’d also found another. The first journal. The one that had been started by then fifteen year old Rosaluna when she’d joined the party of Ishihara Kenjiro, the first hero. Samurai, he’d styled himself, although she hadn’t known what that meant back then, and Jehsha had recognized him with a different class.

This journal had lain for many years, splayed open at the base of the wall behind her workbench where she’d apparently thrown it decades ago in a fit of anger or anguish. Its pages were brown, the ink upon them faded to near illegibility. She’d known better, of course, than to read it.

But she hadn’t been able to help herself, had she? She’d never been able to help herself, which was no doubt how it had found itself lodged behind a bench covered in dust and cobwebs.

And so, after having sorted out the watcher’s journal and sent her summons, she’d been unable to stop herself from taking up this reminder of the happiest days of her life. The oh so few happiest days, despite the danger, despite the travail. Happy, if for no other reason than Kenjiro had been at her side. Until he wasn’t.

More, in reading the old journal, she’d started in remembering things long forgotten. Things about Ishihara Kenjiro that she had pushed away over the years. Things that had marred the joy she’d felt at being with him. Darker aspects of his nature that she’d preferred not to think about.

She must go to Mokkelton at once, regardless of how weary, how heartsick she might feel. There were things about Button’s hero that she must know. A sentinel, Rosaluna had blithely informed Mohrdrand he would be seen as. A class which shared more than one troublesome trait with that of the first hero.

Opening her eyes at last, she raised them to the morning sun, and realized she could not see it for the silhouette standing before her. Tall, centauroid, unmoving.

“Lady Luna,” the figure bowed at the juncture of equine trunk and human torso so soon as it recognized she had become aware of it. “This construct has answered your summons.”

Of course they’d send the swiftest among them, she thought. They were very intelligent for their kind, although not so much as human soldiers would be.

What can you tell me of village five? She asked without preamble. Constructs had no need for such things as polite greetings.

And village five, not Tumblebrook. The golems did not recognize village names, only the order of their place in the patrol route. That was why she’d needed the journal. She’d needed to know which patrol group had been given the area that encompassed Tumblebrook, and what place it held within their route structure. She’d needed to know the individual markings of those constructs as well, so as to direct the summons properly.

“This construct knows little of village five,” the centauroid answered. “It falls outside of this construct’s duties.”

The old woman’s head rocked back and her eyebrows raised. Outside of your duties? She demanded. How can that be? You were assigned village five specifically.

“Humans occupy village five,” the answer came. “And therefore this construct is not authorized to interfere.”

She shook her head in dismay, thinking to clear it. That couldn’t be right. Explain your duties, construct.

The construct bowed again, and began reciting. “This construct and its companions are to keep the secondary roads of their assigned area and the areas surrounding those roads clear of monstrous activity or dangerous beasts. This construct and its companions are to sweep through all abandoned villages and purge any incursions by monstrous creatures or dangerous beasts. This construct—”

Alright, she broke in. Stop. A horrible thought had occurred to her. She stood, staggering slightly after being so long immobile in the chair, and entered the cottage, returning after a short while to consult the journal of the watchers.

Ah, the truth struck her between the eyes. There it was. A single word. 'Abandoned'. Upon such small errors a great many ills befell innocents. She’d obviously assumed that the villages would all be abandoned, and had unthinkingly included the word in their instruction set.

Unforgivably careless, she chastised herself. An enchantress should know better than to leave the minutest detail to chance. Even after so many years, the struggle remained constant to calculate all possible outcomes and address them beforehand. And the stronger the enchantment, the more vital that attention to detail grew.

Within their programming, the higher golems were quite adaptable. But they were stupidly literal. One had to be scrupulous in laying out the letter of their duties, for they would not vary.

Why did you not alert me when you first found village five occupied?

“This construct does not understand the question, Lady Luna. The village was not abandoned, and so it was not—”

Stop. She held her hand up. Fine. Tell me what you do know about village five.

The construct bowed again. This construct and its companions verified that village five was not abandoned. It contained approximately two hundred and fifty humans. This construct and its companions kept the road and surrounding area clear of monstrous activity and dangerous beasts as far as possible without being seen by the humans residing in village five.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Regrettably, this construct and its companions were unable to completely protect the humans in village five due to the length of the patrol route this construct and its companions were assigned, and the significant time required to complete the other duties to which this construct and its companions were assigned. Due to an abnormally large goblin incursion approximately eight months ago, several humans were killed.”

I should certainly have been informed of this! Rosaluna’s face went hard and her eyes spat fire.

The construct bowed again. “This construct had no instructions regarding such events.”

And what of the goblins? She demanded.

“A human adventurer arrived at the village a short time after the deaths and eliminated them. The human adventurer then began to keep the roads and surrounding areas clear of monstrous activity and dangerous beasts.

“Afterwards, this construct and its companions altered their route to bypass village five completely and more efficiently conduct their duties in the remainder of their patrol area.”

Rosaluna was massaging her temples, her eyes squeezed shut.

“Lady Luna?” the construct intruded uncharacteristically on her efforts to quell her rage.

She opened one eye and regarded it. The face, despite being incapable of showing expression, almost looked pleading. Yes?

“Is this construct meant to inform the lady of unusual events, even though they fall outside the scope of its duties?”

If you would be so kind, she sent acidly.

“Lady Luna," the construct informed her hesitantly. “This construct believes that there is currently a creature that is possibly a demon living in village five.”

Her hand went to her heart and she sat bolt upright in the chair. And you didn’t feel this was within the scope of your duties to address? She demanded.

The construct hesitated. “This construct is confused by this demon, Lady Luna,” it told her in its emotionless voice. “It protects the village. It lives with the humans, and interacts with them.

“It appears to be a demon, but does not act like a demon. This construct is unsure what it is, and so how this construct is to deal with it.”

And that didn’t seem like something you should alert me to? Her sending was growing resigned. She was going to have to completely reprogram all of the watchers, she now knew. Atop all of her other trials.

The construct bowed. “This construct had no instructions regarding such events.

“Should this construct issue such alerts in future?”

Yes.

Alright, she thought. So there was a ‘possibly a demon’ living in Tumblebrook. But the villagers were trading with Mokkelton, and their wards were being refreshed. And they seemed on the whole not to be in any particular danger. At least so far as they were willing to let on to the citizens of the town. Which meant that this particular problem could wait a bit while she addressed Button’s dilemma, and possibly the other as well.

Return to village five and verify all that you have told me, she ordered, choosing her words carefully. If there is the remotest sign of any humans being in danger from this creature, address it, but have one of your group return here with that information while you’re doing so. Draw in any other patrols you feel will be necessary to prosecute these actions.

Are there any other villages that are not abandoned? She asked belatedly.

“This construct is unsure, Lady Luna,” the centauroid answered. "There are none in this construct’s patrol zone, but this construct does not communicate with other patrols.”

Of course it didn’t, she sighed. Another thing to correct. Go now, she ordered.

Returning to her cottage, she took up her as yet unfinished new travel bag, shoving the journal of the watchers into its cavernous interior.

Outside again, she took one last look around, envisioned the final command to lock the wards, and summoned a portal. She already felt exhausted, and the day had barely begun.

* * *

Iktchi-Chi smoothed the bodice over her stomach and gave her hips an experimental swish. The dress was certainly comfortable, and both it and the billowy sleeved blouse beneath it were comfortable fits. But she wasn’t entirely convinced she could fly in it.

Mrs. Longhan had made the outfit for her, stressing that her normal, much skimpier garb was causing some... misgivings among the ladies of the village. Alright, fair point. Although her old dress had covered more than Earthian swimsuits, Mundians apparently weren’t much for showing excessive amounts of skin.

Even yet, the mayor’s wife had been tough to convince regarding the side slits and the relatively short skirt that just missed covering her knees, let alone the gap above her tail bone that allowed her prehensile tail to exit the confining cloth at its base rather than peeking demurely from beneath the hem. But she absolutely needed the freedom of movement to maneuver in the air. Even with the concessions, she might not have enough freedom for her normal fluidity.

She flexed her wings a few times, feeling for the tug of catching fabric before crouching and launching herself into the air. The flapping of the billowing sleeves against her arms and the skirt against her upper legs felt unfamiliar and uncomfortable, but she supposed she could deal with it to keep the peace.

The village cobbler was making tall boots for her so her oh, so dangerous calves wouldn’t enflame the farm boys. Or so she imagined, rolling her orange-red lava eyes.

Come sundown, though, she was climbing back into her normal attire. Monsters didn’t care how she dressed while she was slaying them, and there shouldn’t be any impressionable villagers lurking about in the woods in the middle of the night.

All that aside, she was growing worried. Now that the restriction of having to hide her identity had been solved, she’d taken to patrolling wider and wider areas around the village, both day and night. Everywhere she traveled, she saw two things. Abnormally large mobs of dangerous creatures, and an absolute lack of either human or demihuman interference. The so-called gifted were nowhere to be seen.

She’d encountered more of the high golems, though. As best she could determine, there were five different groups of them, working without rest to destroy dangers as they popped up. They weren’t terribly efficient. They didn’t harvest anything from the dead that she could see. And there were far too few of them. But she knew without doubt that they were the only reason the entire countryside and the village beside wasn’t completely overrun and uninhabitable.

Whose were they? Obviously someone powerful. In all likelihood, the same practitioner who’d put the wardstones along the roads. But why were they working alone? Where were all the others who should be farming the area for drops? The mayor had insisted after his first visit to the nearby town that this world’s demon lord had suffered defeat more than a year before she’d been pulled here in Jack’s wake. So where was everybody?

There was nothing for it. Her curiosity was becoming too much to bear. She would have to go into the town and find out what was going on. She’d ask Mrs. Longhan to make her something presentable and human to wear, and she’d visit as Chi the adventurer. It was probably long past time for her to get some official documentation in any case. As it was, she’d need a good-sized cart to haul in all the life stones she’d been harvesting. She’d no doubt need them to be recognized for rank or grade or however the locals gauged these things.

Meanwhile, one of the farmers on the north side had said something about giant moles, and Samus was ready to start learning how to make and refresh wardstones, just in case. She rolled leisurely to the right and headed off towards the north, gliding lazily.