Knight Owen led Corbin, Matthew, and Rhodes in a hurry towards the Town Guard Armory. The scent of iron and leather hung heavy in the air of the Armory, a mixed aroma particularly distinct to Corbin's sharp sense of smell. Various weapons and armor were neatly arranged. Town Guards quickly retrieved suitable equipment for them.
First came the light chainmail, followed by shoulder guards, bracers, greaves… Corbin donned the standard plate armor, feeling his body encased in resilient steel. This dark-colored plate armor, with specially treated edges, although not as fine as the set Knight Boone had custom-made for his father, fit his figure well, accentuating his toned physique from years of training. His waist was cinched, his shoulders broad, and every joint moved freely, showing no clumsiness. Instead, he exuded the capable aura of a knight. Matthew and Rhodes also armed themselves; their armor made their figures appear even taller and more imposing.
They each chose weapons that felt right—Corbin selected a light yet sharp longsword, its weight just right in his hand. The tall Matthew, as always, chose the heavy greatsword, carrying it on his shoulder, displaying his strength and steady nature. Rhodes, meanwhile, exchanged his sword for a comfortable one-handed sword and, after quickly looking around the armory, also equipped himself with a hand shield. Corbin noticed Rhodes' agile move and mentally applauded his quick thinking. Knight Owen also couldn't help but show an approving smile at Rhodes' action.
Corbin also noted that Knight Owen himself retrieved two wrapped signal flares from a cabinet, for unexpected situations.
The four quickly mounted their horses. In the night, hooves clattered urgently on the stone path; they galloped at full speed along the rugged trail towards Elder Lysander's house.
The night wind whipped past, hitting Corbin's face. Elder Lysander's isolated house seemed a little lonely under the shadow of the Solon Mountains, only a few strands of dim, warm light showing from the windows. When they reined in their horses outside the house, Corbin saw a small figure—it was Elder Lysander's granddaughter, Lyra. She stood alone outside the door, looking up, as if she had been waiting for a long time. This brought surprised expressions to both Matthew and Rhodes.
Knight Owen, however, showed no surprise; he merely gave Corbin and the others a subtle glance, a faint, knowing smile on his lips, then dismounted with practiced ease. Corbin followed Knight Owen, Matthew, and Rhodes into the yard; he was one of the last to step through the yard gate.
Lyra silently moved aside. Corbin noticed that this slightly bookish young girl he had seen twice in town now, in the faint light, had eyes that held not simple shyness or curiosity, but a calmness that was unusual for her age.
Entering the house, Owen didn't stand on ceremony, casually picking up a wooden chair carved with strange runes from the living room and sitting backward on it in the center of the hall with a slight creak. He looked at Elder Lysander and got straight to the point:
"Old Man Lysander, it seems you already know about the bandits in the back mountains."
Elder Lysander's quill finally stopped. He slowly closed the parchment scroll and looked up, his wise eyes behind his lenses holding a deep insight into the ways of the world. Corbin looked at the old man, curious about what he studied in this secluded place.
Elder Lysander sighed softly: "Some humans and a few other races arrived at dawn. My Perception never lies. There are more of them than usual, and... their aura is different, carrying a heavy scent of blood."
When Elder Lysander mentioned "aura is different, carrying a heavy scent of blood," Corbin's heart seized, as if his extraordinary sense of smell brought back that cold, eerie aura, confirming the old man's words.
Elder Lysander then looked at Owen, his voice carrying an ancient resonance, as if he could see through the mists of fate, sending another alarm ringing in Corbin's heart: "Are you taking these inexperienced children to their deaths, young Owen?"
At this moment, Corbin, Matthew, and Rhodes suddenly realized that this old scholar, who seemed to only know how to bury himself in books, was not just a scholar, but also a Mage! Corbin felt an unprecedented excitement; the scattered memory fragments about ancient knowledge and magic in his mind seemed to be abruptly activated, those blurry imprints becoming clearer. These had only been vague marks deep within his memory, their power never truly experienced, but now, a real Mage stood before him. An intense thirst for knowledge, like a wildfire, instantly seized his full attention. He couldn't help but want to understand a Mage's power, to know if the knowledge he inherited was real.
Knight Owen's face lost some of its usual ease; he sighed helplessly and explained frankly, "Yes, Old Man Lysander. The Viscount believes it's just a small group of wandering ruffians and won't allow most knights to leave town. He can only send me and these... children to scout ahead. The situation is urgent, and we are shorthanded. We hope you can lend a hand, even if just some guidance, it would be enough to protect these young lives." Listening to Knight Owen's request, Corbin noted the urgency and helplessness in his tone, his contempt for the Viscount deepening.
Elder Lysander frowned upon hearing this, falling into thought. He glanced at his granddaughter Lyra, who waited silently beside him. Lyra smiled back, sensing her grandfather's gaze. After a moment, Elder Lysander finally spoke, his voice carrying a gentle but undeniable finality:
"Young Owen, this old man's bones aren't up for the trouble in the back mountains. As for Lyra... the outside world is dangerous. Although her magic has improved somewhat, she is still young. It's safer for her to stay here and help me organize these ancient books."
He then turned to Lyra: "Lyra, see Knight Owen and the others out for me."
Knight Owen's face showed a hint of helplessness upon hearing this. He bowed deeply to Elder Lysander, accepting the reluctant refusal. Corbin stood at the back of the group, his gaze unable to resist glancing at the parchment scroll Elder Lysander had just closed, and the lingering, unfamiliar magical aura on his fingertips. The magic fragments inherited in his mind pulsed faintly, filled with an unprecedented yearning and curiosity for the extraordinary power of this world. He clenched his fist, his nails almost digging into his palm, suppressing the impulse to ask questions about magic.
Looking at Elder Lysander returning his attention to his books, and then at Lyra standing quietly by the living room door, a complex emotion welled up in Corbin's heart—disappointment at not receiving guidance, but even more so, an intense curiosity about this mysterious old Mage and magic itself. Elder Lysander merely nodded slightly, his gaze already back on his book. Lyra quietly walked to the living room door, waiting for Owen and the others.
They walked out of the house; the night wind carried the coolness of the mountains, brushing against their faces.
Lyra walked in front, her steps light and steady, completely different from her quiet demeanor indoors. She walked directly to the outer gate of the yard, stopped in front of it, and turned to face Corbin and the other three, including Knight Owen.
To Corbin's surprise, Lyra extended a small hand and quickly drew a dark robe from a seemingly unremarkable pouch at her waist, her movement so fast he saw only a blur. The robe unfolded in her hand, carrying a magical fluctuation Corbin had never sensed before, flashing with a strange light in his eyes. Intense interest and curiosity surged within him—Was this Spatial equipment? Was this a vessel of a Mage's power? This was a miracle unimaginable in his previous world!
Lyra lightly draped the robe over herself, her eyes sparkling with a hint of eagerness, appearing spirited and vibrant. Knight Owen saw this and his eyes lit up slightly, but he said nothing, a knowing smile playing on his lips. Matthew and Rhodes were completely bewildered and surprised, clearly not understanding what was happening.
Knight Owen glanced back at the house door, his voice holding a mix of laughter and respect as he called out, "Old Man Lysander! Next time I come, I'll definitely bring good wine! If I report back to Falling Leaf City, I'll bring you some interesting new books!" He then swung himself smoothly onto his horse. Matthew and Rhodes followed suit.
Corbin also mounted his horse. He rode forward to Lyra's side, extended his hand, and offered her an invitation.
Lyra smiled lightly, not hesitating for a moment. She took his right hand for balance and settled smoothly behind him, her movements as graceful as an elf leaping through the forest, her weight so light he barely felt it. She brought not just the weight of a person, but an aura full of vitality and unknown adventure. Lyra's hands gently grasped the fabric at Corbin's waist.
Corbin could feel a slight tremor in her palms—was it fear of the horse being too high? Perhaps it was more excitement.
"Giddy up!" Knight Owen gave a light command, and the horses immediately set off. The four steeds, carrying five young knights and the Mage, quickly melted into the night.
Only Lyra's clear and slightly childish call echoed on the wind: "Grandpa! I'm going out to play! I haven't been to the back mountains before!" Hearing the call from behind him, Corbin couldn't help but chuckle softly. This little girl was truly interesting.