As I followed the villager through the narrow paths of the hamlet, I couldn’t help but observe the people we passed along the way. What struck me the most were the strange glowing collars around the necks of most villagers, softly shimmering in the dim light.

"Tell me, my friend, what are these collars your neighbors are wearing?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

The old man turned to me, his face clouded with a somber expression.

"Ah, those collars… They’re a mark of the Empire’s oppression," he said bitterly. "Everyone in this region, deemed as lesser beings by the Empire, is forced to wear them at all times."

I frowned deeply, disturbed by this revelation.

"A mark of oppression? What exactly does that mean?" I pressed, appalled at the thought of such treatment.

The villager sighed heavily, shaking his head in weary resignation.

"It means we’re slaves, Griffith," he explained gravely. "These collars are connected to a magical control system. If we remove them, we’re severely punished—sometimes even executed on the spot."

A chill ran down my spine, horror creeping through me as I processed his words. How could such cruelty be allowed to persist?

"That’s… that’s absolutely despicable!" I exclaimed, my fists clenching with indignation. "How can the Empire justify enslaving its own people like this?"

The old man gave me a sad, knowing look, as if he understood my outrage all too well.

"Unfortunately, this is the reality we’ve been forced to live with," he said, his voice heavy with defeat. "Anyone who dares to defy the Empire’s authority is brutally punished."

He paused for a moment, then added thoughtfully, "But perhaps, with your help, we could one day free ourselves from this tyranny..."

I looked at him in surprise, noting the faint glimmer of hope in his tone. But I knew full well that going up against the Empire head-on was far beyond anything I could manage alone.

Still, I couldn’t simply stand by and do nothing in the face of such injustice. I needed to find a way to help these people, somehow.

As I mulled over a plan of action, the villager resumed walking, gesturing for me to follow. We made our way through the heart of the village, and I found myself admiring the modest yet vibrant energy of the place.

Children played cheerfully on makeshift playgrounds, while adults busied themselves around colorful taverns. Despite the oppression they endured, these people had managed to hold on to their sense of community and joy.

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"This is our humble village, Griffith," my guide said proudly. "Life isn’t always easy here, but we do our best to keep our spirits alive."

I nodded, offering him a kind smile, genuinely impressed by their resilience.

"It’s a charming place, my friend," I replied sincerely. "I look forward to getting to know it better."

The old man seemed pleased by my reaction, his face lighting up with a broad smile. After showing me a few more sights around the village, like a rustic game of stone checkers, he finally invited me to follow him to his home.

When we arrived at his modest wooden house, I was surprised to see a young woman working diligently in the adjacent fields, skillfully handling a plow with impressive precision.

"Ah, that’s my daughter, Mira," the villager said with pride. "She’s a hard worker, as you can see."

The young woman looked up as we approached, and I was instantly struck by her beauty. Her delicate features were radiant, and her sparkling eyes greeted me with warmth.

"Hello, stranger," she said softly. "Welcome to our humble home."

I quickly returned the greeting, unable to tear my gaze away from her.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Mira," I said with a polite yet charming smile. "Your father has kindly invited me to join you for dinner, and I’m honored."

Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she smiled back before returning to her work with quiet focus.

"Well then, let’s head inside, Griffith," the villager said, gesturing toward the house. "My wife will be delighted to meet you."

I followed him obediently, though I couldn’t help stealing a few glances over my shoulder, captivated by Mira’s grace and beauty.

As we entered the house, I was immediately struck by the warmth and coziness of the space. A delicious aroma of food filled the air, making my mouth water in anticipation.

The villager, whose name I realized I still didn’t know, invited me to sit at the family table, where his wife was putting the finishing touches on the meal.

"My dear, this is Griffith, our guest," he announced warmly to the woman of the house. "He’s a young traveler I had the fortune of meeting today."

The woman, a kind and gentle soul with a bright smile, welcomed me warmly.

"Welcome to our home, Griffith," she said in a melodic voice. "Please, make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be ready soon."

I thanked them graciously, touched by their hospitality. As I settled into my seat, the villager cleared his throat, as if suddenly remembering something important.

"Ah, where are my manners?" he exclaimed. "I haven’t even introduced myself yet! My name is Gérald, and I was once an advisor to the imperial city of Golden River."

My eyebrows rose slightly in surprise. So this man had once served the Empire?

"It’s an honor to meet you, Gérald," I said politely. "I’d be very interested in hearing more about your time in the imperial city."

Gérald nodded, though his expression darkened slightly.

"Yes, I’m sure there’s much I could tell you about that place," he sighed. "But for now, let’s simply enjoy this meal."

I gave him an understanding smile, recognizing that his memories of the Empire were likely painful. Still, I made a mental note to learn more about his past and the secrets of the city whenever the opportunity arose.

For now, I prepared to enjoy this meal with this warm and welcoming family, grateful for the chance to rest before continuing my perilous quest.