The stairs leading into the watchtower were narrow and steep, built from the same pale stone as the town's wall. As they started ascending, the dull clanking of armor echoed above them. Someone was already on their way down.
A moment later, a younger soldier emerged from around the curve—lean, with a boyish face, sharp brown eyes, and light stubble just beginning to take root. His name tag was sewn sloppily onto the strap across his chest: Bavio.
"Bavio," Rhan's voice snapped like a whip. "Why are you leaving your post?"
The young man froze mid-step. He blinked once, saw who was standing there—and immediately straightened up, hands rising awkwardly to adjust the shoulder plate that had slid a little too far out of place.
"Ughh… I—I was just going to use the restroom, sir," Bavio stammered, his voice just a bit too quick. "Think I drank too much water. Couldn't… couldn't wait 'til the end of my shift."
His hand fumbled with the shoulder guard, shifting the strap back into position. But as he did, Jinrai caught something—a small flash of red.
Two tiny dots. On his left trapezius muscle, just peeking above the edge of the armor. Round, clean, faintly bruised around the skin. It was only for a second, just as Bavio adjusted his pauldron back into place.
Jinrai's gaze narrowed.
"Alright," Rhan said, more focused on maintaining order than prying. "But don't keep Shio alone too long. We're just here for a checkup, and if anything goes wrong while you're off, both of you are accountable."
Bavio nodded hastily. "Yes, sir. Won't be long."
He moved past them, trying to appear natural, but his steps were just a bit too fast, a bit too rigid. Jinrai followed him with his eyes until he disappeared around the bend, then leaned slightly toward Tharion and whispered."Did you see that?"
Tharion, caught off guard, glanced after Bavio. "What?"
"I'll tell you later," Jinrai muttered.
They resumed the climb. The next level was simple—a small lookout space with slitted windows facing outward and a single table with a map pinned to it. Another soldier stood inside, back to the stone wall. Shio. Fully armored, helmet still on, his posture was a lot more relaxed than Bavio's had been. He turned at the sound of boots on stone and straightened.
"Shio," Rhan said. "Report. Anything unusual?"
"No, sir," the soldier replied. "Nothing out of the norm. Quiet morning."
Jinrai glanced at him—too heavily armored to catch skin, but something about the setup felt off. Still, he said nothing.
Rhan gave a short nod. "Very well. We'll continue our patrol."
Shio saluted, and they moved on, heading back down the tower and toward the northern section of the wall.
Jinrai waited until they were a safe distance from the tower, then spoke. "Are those two… good soldiers?"
Rhan gave him a curious look. "Shio and Bavio?"
Jinrai nodded.
"They're solid," Rhan said after a moment. "Disciplined. They show up on time, follow orders, train regularly. Nothing to complain about… but nothing spectacular either. What's odd about them is that they're practically joined at the hip. Always working together, always volunteering for the same shifts. And they don't get along well with other squads."
He squinted toward the edge of the town, as if weighing something in his head. "If I split them up, one always tries to swap shifts. It's inconvenient, but we've got a small force here, so I let it slide."
Jinrai let the topic drop for now, tucking the detail away.
He cleared his throat. "Getting back to the earlier question. Eland. Do you know if he ever used magic?"
Rhan sighed, clearly getting tired of the subject. "Why are you so fixated on him?"
Jinrai's expression didn't change. "Just trying to get the full picture."
"Well," Rhan said, rubbing his temple. "In all the time we traveled together, I never saw him cast a spell. No fireballs, no magic shield, nothing. All he had was speed. Precision. He was fast. He practiced more than anyone else. He was… obsessed with the sword, even before the war."
He paused, then gave Jinrai a look that wasn't hostile, just probing. "You're not suspecting him, are you?"
"Of course not," Jinrai said flatly. "But maybe if we understand the past more clearly, we'll see connections that we're missing."
Rhan seemed to accept that, though he didn't seem satisfied.
"Well, I guess you know what you're doing better than I do. You've got that watchful look. Any more questions?"
Jinrai shook his head. "No. I believe that's all."
"Good," Rhan said, eyes already scanning the trees in the distance. "Then let's finish this patrol. If there's anything unusual out here, we better spot it before it becomes a problem."
The sun had dipped low over Ashvale by the time Jinrai and Tharion returned. Inside the inn, the main dining hall was a soft hum of sound. At one of the corner tables, Amukelo's group sat hunched over half-finished plates. Steam curled from a large pot of stew. Pao was eating slowly, swirling her spoon in her bowl. Bral and Idin, by contrast, were almost finished.
Jinrai stepped into the room with Tharion close behind. His eyes scanned the place automatically before landing on their companions. Bral looked up as they approached and called out casually, "Yo. Found anything?"
Jinrai gave a short nod but didn't break stride until he stood by the table. "We'll talk once we're somewhere safe." His tone was calm. "But first, food. I'm starving."
Once they were done with their food, they pushed themselves away from the table, they made their way upstairs. Inside the room where Amukelo, Bral, and Idin had been staying, they rearranged the furniture slightly.
Jinrai leaned forward and broke the silence. "So. Talan the scribe. Did he know anything of value?"
They exchanged glances, and Bral finally shrugged. "We asked him what might've been in the merchant's lost letters. He had no idea. Guessed it could be stuff about the cost, maybe dotations, or even something related to the surveyor's death. But it was just speculation. We also asked whether someone could benefit from the road being built, but he said that he couldn't imagine anyone."
Tharion raised an eyebrow. "Did you at least try to be discreet?"
Bral leaned back and crossed his arms. "He figured it out himself, alright? Said all the incidents were linked to people working on the road. We didn't even say much. He just... knew."
Jinrai's expression didn't shift. "So you found nothing solid."
"Not about the letters," Idin admitted. "But, we found something—"
Amukelo cut in. "Wait. Before we continue, I have a question."
Jinrai turned toward him.
"Why were you so obsessed with all those questions about Eland?" Amukelo asked. "All that stuff about his past, the history of Ashvale… We asked, but it didn't lead anywhere."
Jinrai leaned back against the bed frame. "You did well asking it," he said simply. "I had my doubts."
"Doubts?" Amukelo asked, curious.
Jinrai nodded. "Someone as respected as Eland, praised for strength and leadership... Yet there's no trace of mana in him. It doesn't sit right. A man who helped protect hundreds on a journey that spanned months—who's said to have fought off monsters—should've awakened mana by instinct alone. But from what Rhan told us, he never used magic. Just speed. Technique. That's why I was digging."
He then added with a small shrug, "But we found nothing to suggest anything's wrong. At least, not yet."
There was a pause.
Then Jinrai looked at Idin again. "So? You said you found something?"
Instead of Idin, Amukeko grinned, and without a word, he got up. He reached into a pack in the corner and pulled out a wooden box — old, scuffed, and locked shut with a tarnished brass latch.
Jinrai's eyes narrowed slightly. "That's a surveyor's toolbox."
"It is," Amukelo said as he returned to his seat.
Jinrai tilted his head. "And? What's the significance?"
Amukelo opened the box slowly, one tool at a time clinking as he removed them and placed them on the floor. A compass, a measuring stick, a level — all standard tools.
Jinrai watched, unimpressed. "Just tools."
"Yeah," Amukelo replied. "But check the box."
He handed it to Jinrai, who raised an eyebrow but accepted it. As he shifted the box in his hands, he heard a soft thud from within. Something loose. He peered inside. On the bottom was a perfectly cut wooden panel, flush with the walls of the box. It didn't move when he tried to pull it with his fingers.
"Turn it upside down," Amukelo said simply.
Jinrai did—and as the box flipped, the false bottom popped loose, and with it fell a tightly folded parchment, sealed in oil-treated paper. His eyes snapped to it.
He unfolded it slowly, carefully, revealing long stretches of hand-written notations. Measurements. Slope indicators. Elevation markings. Scrawlings of terrain types. No map, but this… this was something.
Jinrai's eyes narrowed. "That's…"
Idin nodded firmly. "Exactly. The surveyor's original notes. The core data. You could recreate the entire route map from this."
Jinrai ran a finger along the faded ink, and for the first time in hours, he smiled. "This changes everything."