The town was alive in a way Nolen hadn't experienced since arriving in this world. Crowded streets wound between slanted buildings of stone and timber. Market stalls overflowed with colorful produce, strange trinkets, and roasted meats that filled the air with rich smoke. People bustled about—dwarves with soot on their brows, elves with hair like silver thread, beastfolk in patched cloaks, and tall lizardmen walking slow and proud.
Compared to the Shrine of the Hollow Flame, where most of the cultists had distorted forms or strange proportions, this place looked like a fantasy novel had exploded onto cobblestones. Nolen watched it all from under the enchanted fox costume the cultists had given him—a full cloak and hood, complete with soft ears and fur patterns, imbued with a spell that made others perceive him as just another fox beastman.
Kael walked beside him, munching on skewered meat with the easy confidence of someone who clearly didn't care about drawing attention. "I like this place," she said between bites. "Lots of food. Less bowing."
"Yeah," Nolen muttered. "Feels… real."
It felt like he had finally entered the world people dreamed about when they thought of swords and sorcery. Not a shrine in the woods worshiping him for reasons he still didn't understand. This was messy, busy, noisy — and alive.
A large notice board caught his eye near the town square. Adventurers were gathered around it, jostling for space to read. Nolen craned his neck to see.
Notice: Forest Guardian Vanished. E-Rank and above requested for expedition. Lower ranks may assist with perimeter scouting.
The paper was weathered but recently posted. The forest he had just fled in terror was now the center of attention — and chaos.
A red-faced dwarf stormed out of the crowd. "Every damn beast for miles is treatin' that place like free land now! Battle's already started! Buncha damned goblins squattin' in the southern ridge!"
"I heard a wyvern took roost near the cliffs," someone else muttered. "This is a disaster."
Nolen stepped back quickly. Kael licked her fingers. "Guess we left at the right time."
He swallowed. "Whoever killed that guardian really messed things up."
Kael gave him a glance but didn't say anything.
Nolen looked around the town a bit more, careful to stay close to Kael. The chaos at the board was starting to pull in more onlookers. Murmurs rose. A tavern across the street still had space and, more importantly, silence. He ducked inside.
The tavern's interior was dimly lit but warm, with the murmur of voices and the clink of tankards. A long wooden counter stretched across one side, with tables scattered about and a low-burning hearth at the far wall. Kael trailed behind him, sniffing the air.
At a table near the back sat a small adventuring party. They caught his attention not because of how loud they were—but how quiet. Each one carried themselves like a seasoned traveler. A dwarf with a thick braid and heavy iron bracers leaned back in his chair, his boots muddy. A beastkin woman twirled a dagger between her fingers with practiced ease, while a lizardman sat motionless, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded but alert.
And at the center of it all sat an elf.
He had platinum hair—not quite long, not quite short—and striking eyebrows to match. A single line scar ran from just beneath his left eye almost to his nose. He wore leather armor and dark travel robes, dusted with the road, but clearly well-maintained. His posture was relaxed, but he had that kind of dangerous stillness that made Nolen nervous.
Kael blinked. "They're kinda cool looking."
A passing adventurer near the bar leaned over to the barkeep and whispered, "That's the Gathering of Races. A-rank team. Took out a basilisk last month."
The elf — Hermit — noticed Nolen watching. His sharp eyes flicked toward the fox ears, paused, then shifted back without comment.
Nolen turned away quickly, cheeks hot. He pulled Kael to the counter. "Let's just sit here."
They ordered water and something cheap — Kael got stew, Nolen nibbled dry bread — and listened.
Talk about the forest was everywhere. Bounties were being offered for rare monsters. Whole guilds were forming expeditions. Nobody seemed to know what had happened to the forest guardian.
"Probably some ancient-class rogue beast," said one man. "Snuck in, killed it, and vanished."
"No way," another scoffed. "Only an A-rank or higher could've taken it out clean."
Kael slurped loudly. Nolen stayed silent, trying not to look like someone who once kicked a rabbit and caused an ecological collapse.
Eventually, the elf stood. His party followed. Hermit slung his pack over his shoulder and gave the room one last glance.
Then he looked at Nolen.
And gave him a small nod.
That was it. No greeting. No farewell.
Just a nod.
Hermit turned and walked out of the tavern with his party, the door shutting behind them in a gust of warm air and street noise.
Nolen exhaled, only now realizing how tense his shoulders were. "That guy was intimidating."
Kael leaned back. "You should ask for his autograph."
"Why? He's not famous."
"Yet."
They finished their food in relative silence. As the tavern settled into a lull, Nolen paid the tab and stretched. "Let's find an inn before it gets dark."
They left the tavern and walked down a quiet side street. The first inn they found was small and modest — white brick, sloped red roof, ivy crawling up one side. Inside was a sleepy old man at the counter and the faint smell of lemon wood polish.
They booked a room with two beds and climbed the narrow stairs. The room was cozy and clean, with thick curtains and soft quilts.
Nolen collapsed into his bed face-first and didn't move for a full minute.
Kael kicked off her shoes and hopped onto hers.
"Town's not bad," she said, curling up like a cat.
Nolen grunted into the pillow. "We're not dying. That's progress."
New
Tomorrow would be another mess.
But for now — rest.