The scent of fresh pine drifted delicately on the crisp morning breeze as Zepp crossed the weathered wooden bridge into Dophis Village, her satchel bouncing gently against her hip with each step. The forest road behind her twisted and turned like a lazy river, its gravel surface crunching softly beneath her shoes, a path seldom traveled unless one had pressing business this far east.
Dophis was a border village, a quiet and modest enclave often left in the shadows of the capital, yet it stood resilient against the relentless winds of time, much like a flickering candle valiantly fighting against the dark. Wooden homes leaned together like a group of gossiping elders, their faded paint peeling away to reveal splintered wood beneath. Cobblestone streets bore the imprints of heavy carts, hoofed horses, and bare feet, while the tattered flags of Holjr fluttered half-heartedly from rusting posts, their colors dulled by relentless sun and neglect.
But to Zepp, this place was everything, a tapestry of memories woven from laughter and love.
"Morning, Mister Bell!" she called cheerfully to the first figure she spotted, an old woodcutter with a face crisscrossed by deep lines, each telling a story of years spent laboring under the sun.
The old man grunted from his porch, raising a hand that was calloused and rough from decades of axe work. "Off for your usual deliveries, Zepp?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his gravelly voice.
"Yup! Master sent me with herbs again," she replied with an enthusiastic nod, the sun glinting off her unkempt hair.
"She send you with any patience?" he asked, chuckling.
Zepp giggled, her laughter brightening the day. "Nope! Used it all up on her!"
As she moved deeper into the vibrant village square, the familiar rhythm of life embraced her like a warm blanket. the ringing of the blacksmith's hammer striking iron, the clatter of wooden crates being stacked in the bustling market, and the animated gossiping of merchants over half-spilled cups of steaming tea. Each sound resonated with her heart, it was truly her domain.
She stopped briefly near the message board by the ornate stone fountain, its waters sparkling in the sunlight. There, faded guild flyers and kingdom notices flapped in the gentle breeze, their edges curling with age.
Holjr Merchant Guild – Border Branch
"Now accepting caravan guards for the next rotation. Pay in silver. Sword required."
Adventurer Guild – Eastern Outpost
"Call for Rank-C and higher to investigate disappearances near the Wildfang Crags."
Zepp tilted her head in curiosity. Crags? That wasn't too far from here; she could almost picture the jagged rocks from the edge of the village.
Behind her, a pair of travelers huddled near a stall, their voices low but distinct.
"...Another caravan hit last week," one muttered, a tone of worry threading through his words.
"Bandits?" the other asked, eyebrows furrowed.
"No... too clean. Some think it's foreign scouts." came the reply as they exchanged anxious looks.
Zepp pretended not to eavesdrop, but her ears perked up involuntarily. Lately, there had been more guards passing through than usual, and the last letter from the capital had arrived nearly a week late, with ominous tidings.
She resolved to ask Selva, her master, who despised politics but was always privy to the latest rumors and insights, a fount of hidden knowledge.
Dropping by the apothecary, she greeted the baker with her usual sunny smile and was rewarded with a warm cinnamon bun, gifted for being "too cute to charge." As a bright mix of spice and sweetness filled her senses, she even took a moment to help a lost tabby cat down from a roof, coaxing it with gentle words until it trustingly leapt into her arms.
Everything felt... normal, and yet, she sensed an undercurrent of tension, like a tightly wound string threatening to snap with the slightest provocation. More merchants were hiring guards, fewer travelers exchanged smiles, and the border guards appeared less like farmers wielding spears and more like soldiers waiting for a command.
By noon, Zepp found herself seated on the edge of the village well, savoring her cinnamon bun. A few children dashed past her, their laughter ringing like bells, a scruffy dog barked playfully nearby, and the faint chimes from the old chapel mingled with the gentle wind.
She swung her feet lazily, letting her gaze drift toward the majestic mountains on the horizon, towering sentinels that marked the edge of Holjr and the vast wilderness beyond.
"Do you ever wonder," she said softly to the air, "what's out there?"
An inexplicable ache blossomed in her chest at that thought, as if a piece of her very being lingered beyond those craggy peaks, waiting for her to discover it.
Shaking her head to clear the notion, she stood to leave, but something caught her eye, a cloaked traveler pinning a paper to the guild board. They were not a villager, nor were they a familiar face.
The figure turned, their shadowed hood obscuring their features, but for a fleeting moment, their gaze locked onto hers. A chill raced down her spine, and her heart skipped a beat, something about that look felt deeply familiar, as if they recognized her from some distant memory.
And just like that, the enigmatic figure walked away, slipping into the crowd.
With a mix of trepidation and curiosity, Zepp stepped closer to the board. The new notice read:
"Warning: Movement detected along the Eastern Border. Travelers urged to return before sundown."
- Royal Watch of Holjr
Her fingers trembled slightly as they traced the ink, the gravity of the message settling into her bones.
Maybe Selva was right. Perhaps her kindness and innocence would be her undoing one day.
But that day wasn't today.