Bral leaned forward and asked gently, "We understand. Okay, now tell us. Do you think that anyone in this town could benefit from isolation?"
Talan furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"
"You know…" Bral said, scratching his jaw, "from the road not being built. From the town staying cut off."
Talan leaned back. "No," he said after a pause. "I cannot imagine anyone benefiting from it. I mean sure, once the road is built and trade increases, some people will have more work, more duties — smiths, guards, merchants. But all of that would come with better security, more food, easier access to goods."
He looked at Bral. "I believe the road would benefit everyone here."
The group fell into a brief silence. Bral glanced at Amukelo, then at Idin and Pao. None of them spoke. Bao just crossed her arms and looked away, thinking. Bral sighed. "Well," he said, "I think that's all we need for now. If we have any more questions, we'll come back."
He pushed his chair back and stood, prompting the others to follow.
But before they could step toward the door, Talan raised his voice. "Wait!"
All of them turned at once. He was still seated, but his hands were now clenched in his lap.
"Please," he said again, his voice rougher now, less composed. "Stop this. Someone is trying to prevent that road from being built, aren't they?"
They all froze. Pao gave a quick glance to Amukelo, and he turned to Bral, who remained silent. No one answered.
Talan's voice cracked. "I mean… it's not dark magic. All these incidents… they've happened to people tied to the road. And I know this town. As strange as it might sound for this region of Elandria, this place has been… peaceful. Very peaceful."
He looked up now, eyes glistening under the dusty light.
"Not perfect," he continued, "but… this town doesn't have deaths like this. Surveyors don't fall off cliffs. Treasurers don't just drop dead from strange illnesses. Merchants don't lose their cargo to 'animals' without a single trace of what they were carrying."
His fingers trembled, and he let out a breath. "Garen, the treasurer… he was my friend. My closest one, actually. From before this place became a town. From before it had walls, or cobbled homes. We helped build it together. He was a good man. Careful. Honest."
He looked down, then back up. His voice lowered. "Please… find the bastard responsible for these deaths."
There was a long pause. The mood in the room shifted.
Bral, after a breath, gave a slow, respectful nod. "We'll try our best," he said softly. "I promise."
Amukelo glanced at Talan, and something flickered in his mind — Jinrai's words, his probing questions about Eland's age, and the odd way he seemed fixated on the town's history. He tilted his head, and then asked, "Oh, that reminds me… Can you tell us a little more about this village becoming a town?"
Talan blinked. "What do you mean?"
"How it started," Amukelo said. "What happened thirty years ago? How did everything come to be what it is now?"
Talan narrowed his eyes from confusion. "What does that have to do with the investigation?"
Amukelo glanced at Bral, then Idin. "It's something Jinrai was trying to understand," he explained. "I thought it would be a good question."
Idin nodded in agreement. "Yeah. It might help us connect a few dots together. Can you tell us about it?"
Talan leaned back in his chair,. "So," he said, "before the group escaping the war arrived, this was just a village. Small. Quiet. We had what we needed to survive — fish from the rivers, mushrooms and berries from the highlands, some game. And for some reason, the ground here was kind to us. We never lacked food, not even in the worst seasons. I don't know why. But the people here never starved."
He exhaled slowly, eyes growing distant. "But monsters… Every few years, something bigger came from the vallies or wandered from the woods — and when that happened, we weren't strong enough to fight. We lost good men, time and time again. It was a cycle. A few years of peace, then one night of screaming and blood."
His voice dropped lower. "And then one day, they came."
Pao, who had been idly watching dust settle in a sunbeam, turned her attention back to him. Talan gave a short, dry chuckle.
"We called them the Watchers," he said. "That was our name for them, not theirs. Maybe a few hundred of them. Not soldiers, not nobles. Just… survivors. War-hardened. Worn down to the bone, some of them. I remember thinking they looked like ghosts. But spirits or not, they were strong. Stronger than anyone in our village."
He paused again, voice a little strained, like recalling it pulled at old wounds. "At first they just wanted to heal their wounds. But eventually they decided to settle. We gave them space, and in return, they protected us. Especially one man — Eland."
Everyone looked at one another as the name came up.
Talan nodded slowly. "Even back then, people whispered about him. That without him, the Watchers wouldn't have survived either. They said he stood alone against things that would've killed the whole group. That he saved villagers out on the cliffs. That he wandered out into the dark when people went missing and came back carrying them on his back. That if monsters came, he met them with a sword."
He chuckled softly again. "Eventually, he became our chief. Then, when the settlement was recognized officially, he became lord. It was natural. No one questioned it. Even if he didn't seek the title, it found him. That's why, when people say Eland built this town… well, it's hard to disagree."
Amukelo, listening carefully, furrowed his brow. Jinrai's words echoed in his head — about how strange it was that someone so praised had no visible trace of awakened mana. After a moment, he spoke. "Do you know what his combat style was?"
Talan blinked, then rubbed his jaw. "Hmm… I never saw him fight. But he always carried a sword. So I'd guess he was a swordsman."
Pao leaned forward slightly. "Did he ever use magic?"
The old man raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "Like I said, I never saw him in combat."
A brief silence passed over the room. Idin glanced at Amukelo, who glanced at Bral. None of them had a real reason to dig further. They didn't even know why Jinrai had been so fixated on it.
Bral cleared his throat. "Do you know anyone who might've seen him fight, though?"
Talan nodded. "Plenty. Eland was everywhere in those days. If you asked around, I'm sure someone would remember. But if you want someone who saw it and won't just give you vague stories, try Fedora. She runs the bakery, close to the eastern well. She once told me Eland saved hers and her daughter's lives. I believe her daughter works at the mansion now, as one of the maids."
He tilted his head slightly. "Though I'm curious. What does this have to do with the investigation?"
They tensed up almost instantly. Amukelo opened his mouth, paused, then whispered, "Ugh… good question."
Bral stepped in quickly. "Sorry. That's confidential."
Talan smirked faintly. "Hmph. Whatever. I just hope you find whoever's behind all this."
He looked down at the floorboards for a moment as if something had occurred to him, and then added, "By the way… I don't know if it'll help, but the surveyor's tools — they're in the town's storage. Soldiers collected them. If you want to take a look, tell the guards that Talan the scribe gave you permission. Say it's for your investigation. They should let you in."
Bral's eyebrows rose. "That's actually really helpful. Thanks."
The group rose from their seats and headed toward the door.
As they were nearly out, Amukelo turned and added quietly, "We'll try our best to solve this."
Talan gave him a tired smile. "That's all I ask."