Jinrai rose from his chair slowly. "That's all, sir," he said.
Lord Eland offered him a small nod. "Very well. In that case, I will return to my matters."
But before anyone else could shift, Jinrai spoke again. "Actually," he said. "Forgive me for taking more of your time, but I have a few… less relevant questions. If that's alright."
There was a silence. Eland's expression didn't change. "What is it?" he asked.
Jinrai hesitated just a second. Then he asked plainly, "How old are you, sir?"
A beat.
Tui stopped mid-step, her hands still clasped in front of her. "That's rude," she said, frowning gentlly.
The group stiffened. Tharion gave Jinrai a sharp look, while Idin leaned back ever so slightly as if preparing for the fallout. Pao raised an eyebrow, unsure whether to be amused or nervous. Bao's eyes flicked between Eland and Jinrai, watching closely. Only Amukelo seemed unfazed, or he didn't understood the weight of the situation.
But Eland raised a hand gently to settle the room. "It's alright, Tui," he said, his voice just as calm. "I'm approaching fifty."
Jinrai squinted slightly. He gave a quick nod, then pressed on. "I heard many good rumors about you, Lord Eland," he said. "How did you manage to build this town in a place like this?"
The tension ratcheted higher.
Eland took a slow breath.
"Well…" he began, then coughed lightly, patting a cloth to his lips before continuing. "All I really did was provide protection."
He let the words hang for a second.
"At the start, we were nothing but people fleeing the war. Refugees, wanderers… survivors. But these lands, as dangerous as they are, offered a strange sort of safety. Because of the elevation, the monsters didn't come here as often as they did through the valleys, and there was a small village when we arrived."
He paused to sip his tea.
"So we stayed. And when we stayed long enough, we started to build. More houses. Fences. Then roads. Then a wall. It wasn't my doing alone. It was the people. All I did was try to keep them safe long enough to make it possible."
His voice was quiet, humble. "It wasn't a plan," he said. "It just… happened."
Jinrai nodded slowly. "Thank you for your answers," he said at last, bowing slightly. "And I apologize for wasting your time on such unimportant questions."
Lord Eland gave him a thin smile. "They didn't feel unimportant."
Then, with a gesture, he turned to Tui. "Please escort them out."
She nodded and gave the group a polite bow. "This way, please."
The group followed her through the long hallway again. The corridors still felt dim, with curtains drawn shut tight and the lanterns burning low on the walls.
As they walked, Amukelo trailed just slightly behind the others. His eyes drifted to the side — something caught in his peripheral vision. Down one of the narrower hallways, a shadow moved.
A small face peeked out from behind the corner.
It was a little girl. Her skin almost white in the muted light, her hair a muted lavender that shimmered silver under the glow of a nearby lantern. She clutched a small bear plush in her arms, eyes wide but expression unreadable.
Then, just as quickly as she appeared, she vanished behind the wall again.
Amukelo blinked. But he didn't say anything. Probably Eland's daughter, he figured. Or a family member. Nothing to dwell on.
Once outside, the fresh air of Ashvale greeted them again.
Jinrai didn't say anything for a few steps. Then he glanced at the others. "So," he said. "What do you think?"
Tharion was the first to respond, frowning slightly. "I don't know. He looks too young."
Idin folded his arms. "He's pale. Frail. But his face hasn't aged much."
Tharion nodded. "Also, one thing doesn't quite add up. If he was strong enough to protect a group of people from monsters, and strong enough to lay the foundations of this town, then why doesn't he have any mana traces?"
Pao said, "Yeah, I realized that too."
Tharion looked to Jinrai. "That kind of strength doesn't come without awakening."
"And he must've been young," Tharion added. "Maybe eighteen, maybe even younger. That's awfully early to be carrying that kind of responsibility and strength."
Jinrai tilted his head slightly, then turned to the others. "Thoughts?"
Amukelo raised a hand almost sheepishly. "Maybe he was a swordsman," he said. "Or an archer. Someone who relied on skill instead of mana."
Idin nodded in agreement. "Our group's not weak. And only Bral and Pao have awakened mana. It's not that strange."
Jinrai gave a small smile. "That's what I thought too. It's not impossible."
Bral scratched the back of his head. "Still," he said, "to never awaken it? Someone like that?"
Pao chimed in gently, "Maybe he stopped training once the town was safe. Maybe he focused on leadership and let his skills fade. People change when they stop fighting."
Jinrai shrugged. "Ultimately… we didn't find anything that brings us closer to the truth."
"But we still have two more people to ask," Tharion reminded.
"True," Jinrai said, glancing down the road. "Let's not waste time."
He turned back to the group, pointing toward Amukelo, Bral, Bao, Idin, and Pao. "You lot will find and talk to the scribe. We'll speak with Captain Rhen, I have a question I need to ask him."
Amukelo nodded. "Got it."
Amukelo's group wandered for a while, asking around. Most people didn't know exactly where Talan the scribe lived, but a few gestures in the same direction eventually pointed them toward a modest home tucked beside the town's modest archive hall.
His home was adjacent to it. Narrow, one-storied, with wooden shutters that hung loosely on rusted hinges. Bral stepped forward and gave a firm knock.
After a pauese the door creaked open and an older man appeared. His hair was white and patchy, and his cheeks sagged with age.
He blinked at them. "Oh… how can I help you?"
Bral took a half-step forward. "We're adventurers," he said, raising his guild badge. "We're here regarding the road-building quest."
Talan looked them over. He didn't ask anything more. Instead, he stepped aside with a tired but polite nod. "Please," he said. "Come inside. We can talk."
The home was small, and every bit of it looked like it served a purpose. Bookshelves ran along nearly every wall, crammed with scrolls, old tomes, and loose papers. A table stood near the center with just enough chairs for the group to squeeze around.
Once everyone was seated — or leaning nearby — Talan turned to them. "Did you… find anything?" he asked, his tone cautious but hopeful.
The group exchanged glances. It was Amukelo who answered. "Ugh… unfortunately, we can't tell you," he said awkwardly. "It's due to the investigation. We've been asked to keep everything confidential for now."
Talan scratched the back of his head. "Ahhh… too bad. But, I suppose that kind of approach is better in the long run."
Bral gave a polite nod. "We just need answers to a few questions. If you're okay with that."
There was a brief pause as Talan looked over them again. Then he nodded once, slowly. "Alright. I'll try to answer to the best of my knowledge."
Bral leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "Our first question: what do you know about the merchant that got attacked?"
Talan looked down slightly as if searching through memory. "Well… he's one of the very few merchants willing to trade with us. Many in this town know him. We're grateful to him — truly. Especially because there are no real roads leading here. Most merchants wouldn't even think of traveling to Ashvale."
He picked up a worn cup of tea and sipped from it.
"He trades goods with us regularly. Prices are high sometimes, yes, but we don't really have other options. It's a lifeline. Even when some grumble about the costs, they know he's still our best shot at getting essentials."
Bral nodded again. "Okay. What about his most recent trip? Did you know he was coming beforehand?"
Talan nodded, though slower this time. "Yes. I keep track of such things. We communicated ahead of time through rune diagrams. So we knew he was coming… though we didn't know the exact day. He was supposed to deliver some letters too — official stuff, things tied to the road-building plans. But they were lost."
Idin asked, "Do you have any ideas what might've been in those letters?"
Talan paused. His face shifted. "Well…" he began softly. "Maybe something regarding the surveyor… the loss of his work. They were working closely together. It would make sense."
He took another sip of tea, but this time, his hand trembled a little.
"I…" he started, but then stopped. His voice tightened. "I don't think it had anything to do with the treasurer's death but—"
He stopped again, and this time his eyes glistened. "I can't be sure."
He sniffed and looked down, trying to blink away the weight of whatever memory had taken root.
"I'm sorry…" he murmured, his voice just above a whisper.
Amukelo's tone softened. "That's okay," he said. "Take your time."
Talan drew a breath, steadying himself. Then he continued. "Maybe the letters had something about costs… or requests for dotations from the capital. Maybe it was just paperwork. I don't know. It's hard to tell.