The Eminence of Technology

by Terra ace

An Eminence in Shadow does not just rely on brute strength, Minoru Kageno realized. He needed to make sure that he would be uncontested in every arena! However, one massive conspiracy later, he is reborn once more. An ancient order, desperate to stay hidden, is dragged out into the light, to face the Eminence in Shadow, powered by technology that hasn't been seen in ages.

10. A Wandering Shadow

Chapter 9.5: A Wandering Shadow

The dawn came soft and gray as Kageno stepped onto the split road, miles away from Karstal. The village, still wrapped in the quiet of early morning, sat far behind him, shrouded by mist and half-light. No one was from there was with him, and he preferred it that way. No fanfare, no words of farewell—just silence.

The weight of his small pack sat evenly on his shoulders, the only sound the faint swish of his cloak brushing against his legs as he walked. The village gates loomed behind him, growing smaller with every step. Kageno didn't look back. There was no need.

Karstal was a chapter closed.

In the days following the bandits' attack, he had done all he could to help—repairing fences, salvaging what could be saved, lending his hands wherever they were needed. For a moment, he had thought he might stay longer, that he might earn a place among the people he had fought for. But quiet words had begun to follow him, whispers he could hear even when they weren't spoken aloud. He's not one of us. Where did he even come from?

The hotheaded few who had accused him of being a bandit informant were wrong, of course. He hadn't fought to defend the village only to betray it. But their words had lingered. Suspicion, once planted, spread like ivy, and Kageno saw it creeping in the way the blacksmith's nod turned stiff or how the baker's smile faltered at the edges.

He didn't blame them. People were afraid. The attack had shaken them, and in their search for answers, they had turned to the easiest target—a stranger. It didn't matter that he'd stood in the mud with them, that he'd fought alongside them. He was still other, and that was enough.

And so, Kageno had made his choice. He didn't leave in anger or bitterness—there was no point in either. The village had wounds to heal, both in its homes and in its heart. He wouldn't be the splinter that festered.

The night before, he'd left behind one last offering. There was a broken mill cart the village elder had been fretting over, too damaged to be of use. Kageno spent the last hours before midnight fixing it, straightening the warped wheels and reinforcing the joints. When he finished, he set the tools neatly in place beside it. It wasn't much, but it felt like enough—a quiet gesture, a small apology for the trouble his presence had caused.

Now, as the mist curled around his ankles and the road stretched on ahead, Kageno allowed himself to breathe. There was no anger in his chest, no weight of resentment to carry. Just… emptiness. Not the painful kind, but the kind that settles in after a storm—a quiet, open space that waits patiently to be filled.

He stopped briefly at the crest of a low hill, turning his gaze toward the horizon. Rolling fields faded into the distance, their colors muted by the early light. Somewhere beyond those hills was another village, another forest, another forgotten place where he might find shelter. Or perhaps he wouldn't. It didn't matter yet.

Kageno pulled his cloak tighter against the morning chill and started walking again. He wasn't running away, not really. He was simply moving forward. That's what the road was for, after all.

Keep walking. Keep moving. Find somewhere new.

As the mist began to lift, the village of Karstal disappeared from view, swallowed by the distance and the gentle rising sun. Kageno didn't look back.

He had already said his goodbyes.

~!~

The sun hung low in the sky, casting soft golden light across the land as Kageno walked the long, uneven road. The world around him felt vast and indifferent—rolling hills and scattered trees stretched endlessly, broken only by narrow dirt paths carved by travelers before him. He let the sound of his footsteps fill the silence, the rhythmic crunch of gravel beneath his boots giving his mind something to hold onto as he moved forward.

Claire's words echoed quietly in his thoughts. "The Barony can use someone like you. Protectors. Advisers." She had spoken plainly, with the certainty of someone who believed in what she said. That certainty lingered with him now, following him like a shadow.

He wasn't sure why it stuck with him. Was it because Claire had been one of the few to defend him in Karstal? Or was it the way she had spoken—as though she could see value in him where others hadn't? Kageno sighed, shoving his hands into his cloak pockets as he walked. He wasn't sure. The offer lingered somewhere between an opportunity and a trap, and he hadn't yet decided which.

The days blurred together as he wandered. Time on the road always did that—stretching long when he was alone and folding in on itself whenever he stumbled upon another pocket of life. A few small trading roadstops dotted the path he followed, modest places carved out by merchants and wanderers like him. They weren't towns, not really—just clusters of ramshackle stalls and tents set up around a fire pit or water trough.

At the first stop, Kageno refilled his water flask at a stone well, nodding politely to the wiry old man who sat nearby whittling a piece of wood. He spent the last of his coin on a small sack of dried meat and hard bread, the merchant squinting at him as if trying to decide whether he was worth asking questions about. Kageno gave nothing away, murmuring a quiet thanks before stepping back onto the road.

The second stop was more lively, though barely. A merchant wagon, its wood weathered but sturdy, sat at the edge of a camp where a handful of traders and laborers had gathered. The scent of cooking stew hung in the air, thick and savory, drawing Kageno closer. A woman ladling soup into bowls gave him a sideways glance as he approached.

"Coin or trade?" she asked, her voice rough but not unkind.

Kageno hesitated before pulling a small, intricately carved wooden charm from his pack—a trinket he'd whittled during quiet nights in Karstal, more out of habit than need. "Trade," he replied, holding it out.

The woman's brows lifted slightly, and she took the charm, inspecting it closely. "Not bad," she muttered, tucking it into her apron. She handed him a bowl of hot stew and a piece of coarse bread, and he sat near the edge of the camp, eating in silence as the others around the fire swapped stories of trade routes and bandit sightings.

For a moment, Kageno felt invisible, just another traveler passing through. It was a feeling he didn't mind. The world carried on, indifferent to who he was or where he came from, and he found a strange comfort in that.

But as he left the camp and returned to the road, Claire's voice tugged at the back of his mind again. "The Barony needs people who see solutions where others see obstacles."

He didn't know why it bothered him so much. Maybe it was because it didn't sound like an empty platitude—like she'd spoken from experience, from conviction. Or maybe it was because a part of him was tired of wandering, of carrying only the weight of his pack and his memories.

Still, the idea of staying anywhere—even in a place as strong and alive as Claire's Barony—felt foreign. It wasn't the kind of thing he allowed himself to imagine. Not yet.

As the days turned to weeks, the land began to change. The hills gave way to wide-open fields, their golden wheat swaying in the wind like waves on a quiet sea. A scattering of farmhouses dotted the landscape, smoke rising gently from their chimneys. Ahead, a fork in the road led to a higher hill, and Kageno's gaze caught on something in the distance: the faint outline of stone walls and tall banners fluttering above them.

A keep. And not just any keep—it was alive, thriving, surrounded by what looked like rows of vineyards and bustling farmland. Even from afar, Kageno could see movement along the roads leading into the valley below—wagons, workers, people going about their lives.

He paused, the faint wind tugging at his cloak as he studied the sight. It was so unlike the quiet villages and empty ruins he had passed. This place stood tall and defiant against the horizon, brimming with energy and life.

A Barony, he realized.

He was instantly reminded of Claire's offer.

For a long moment, he stood there, watching the banners ripple in the breeze. It would be easy enough to turn away now, to keep walking toward the horizon, letting the road take him somewhere else—anywhere else. But the idea of wandering again, of endless nights spent sleeping under trees and trading charms for bread, suddenly felt heavier than it had before.

Kageno sighed, the sound soft against the open air. He hadn't made a decision yet—not really—but his feet were already moving, carrying him down the path that wound toward the valley below. He would see it for himself, he decided. If nothing else, he owed himself that much.

One step at a time, he thought. The road would carry him there, and whatever came next… he'd face it when he got there.

~!~

~A Couple of days later, after leaving the nameless barony~

The road ahead bent gently toward a line of towering trees, their silhouettes sharp against the afternoon sun. Kageno slowed as he approached, boots crunching softly on the dirt path. These trees were unlike any he'd seen in recent weeks—taller, older, their gnarled trunks wide enough for a dozen men to stand shoulder to shoulder. Their branches twisted high into the sky like the arms of sleeping titans, their canopy so thick it cast the ground below into a twilight shadow.

Kageno stopped at the edge of the grove, his breath catching for just a moment. Something about this place tugged at the edges of his memory—a faint echo of another time. Another place.

The first time he had opened his eyes in this strange world, it had been among trees like these. Giants. Quiet, ancient sentinels that held no judgment, only stillness. The air in that grove had felt heavier, as though the trees themselves had been watching him—acknowledging him. He had wandered there for days before stumbling into the world beyond, into villages and towns, into the chaos of human lives. But that place… the grove where he had awoken… it still lingered in his thoughts like an unfinished sentence.

"Will I ever find it again?" he muttered softly to himself, his voice swallowed by the quiet. He wasn't sure if he wanted to. Part of him feared that returning would unravel everything he had done since leaving—every choice, every step. And yet… there was a small, inexplicable longing in his chest to stand there again. To feel the quiet peace of those ancient trees.

He exhaled slowly and stepped beneath the canopy, letting the shadows envelop him for just a moment. The ground was soft with moss, the air cool and rich with the earthy scent of old bark. He pressed a hand lightly against one of the massive trunks, its surface rough and solid beneath his fingers. It was strange, how something so still and unyielding could feel so alive.

"No point thinking about it," he thought, shaking the reverie away like dust off his shoulders. He was here, now, and the road still stretched ahead.

Emerging from the copse on the other side, Kageno spotted a weathered signpost planted firmly in the earth where the path forked. The wood was cracked and faded, but the paint still clung stubbornly to its surface. Two arrows pointed in opposite directions, each bearing the name of a destination:

East to Riverbend Town
South to Crestharbor Seatown

Kageno studied the sign for a long moment, his thumb brushing idly over his cloak's edge. Riverbend Town was likely a quiet farming settlement—another Karstal, perhaps. A place where life moved slow and steady, where people were suspicious of strangers like him. The idea of it didn't sit well. Not yet.

The other arrow pointed south to Crestharbor. A seatown—a place where merchants bustled, where goods and people came and went with the tides. It would be louder, busier, and more indifferent. Towns like that didn't care who you were as long as you had coin to spend or skills to offer. Kageno smirked faintly to himself. It sounded like exactly the kind of place he needed right now.

"South it is," he said aloud, as if to confirm it to the empty air.

With one last glance back at the towering trees, he turned toward the southern path, the road sloping gently downward. Crestharbor awaited, somewhere beyond the hills and forests—a new place to lose himself in the hum and clatter of life. He didn't know what he would find there, but that was part of the appeal. A bustling town by the sea meant no one looking too closely, no one asking too many questions.

As he walked, the wind shifted, carrying with it a faint scent of salt and brine from far off. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there—a promise of waves and harbors, of gulls crying overhead and the rhythm of tides. Kageno let the breeze brush past him, pulling him forward, one step at a time.

The grove behind him returned to silence, its trees standing as they always had—ancient and knowing, witnesses to the wandering of those who passed beneath their branches.

~!~

The road sloped downward, revealing a vast panorama of movement and life that took Kageno completely by surprise. Crestharbor unfolded before him like something out of a grand story—no simple "seatown," but a sprawling, vibrant hub of trade and activity. Ships of all sizes crowded the harbor, their sails furled and masts rising like a forest of wooden spears against the morning sky. Beyond the piers, buildings stacked tightly against one another rose in uneven clusters, spreading inland like roots taking hold in fertile soil.

This isn't a town, Kageno thought, slowing his steps as he took it all in. This is a city.

He paused on the road, shading his eyes with a hand as he let himself study the scene. Wide, cobbled streets buzzed with life, wagons creaking beneath the weight of crates and barrels, their drivers shouting to clear the way. Merchants and dockhands swarmed like ants across the piers, hefting goods up ramps and unloading cargo from ships with practiced precision. Sailors, their sleeves rolled and hands rough with work, shouted orders and curses over the din, their voices mingling with the cries of gulls circling overhead.

The smell of salt, fish, and damp wood filled the air—sharper and livelier than anything he had encountered in the quiet fields and ruined keeps of his wandering. The sea, stretching wide beyond the harbor's edge, glittered under the sun, its waves lapping against the docks like a steady heartbeat.

Kageno descended the final stretch of road into the outskirts of the city, where the scent of the ocean grew thicker and the hum of activity surrounded him on all sides. There were stalls selling everything from fresh-caught fish to brightly woven fabrics, their merchants calling out to passing crowds. Carts clattered by with goods from faraway lands—spices he couldn't name, fruits he'd never seen before, and wooden crates marked with stamps of foreign symbols.

At the edge of the bustling piers, Kageno slowed his pace, almost instinctively blending into the flow of people. He felt like a small stone dropped into a rushing river, carried along with the current of bodies moving from one end of the harbor to the other. Nearby, dockworkers maneuvered an enormous crate suspended on ropes, shouting instructions as it swung precariously overhead. A group of sailors hoisted barrels onto their shoulders, grumbling good-naturedly as they made their way toward a nearby warehouse.

"This place…" Kageno muttered to himself, watching the organized chaos with faint awe. "They call it a seatown? Who are they trying to fool?"

Crestharbor was no sleepy coastal village. It was a city—alive, loud, and vast, as if the sea itself had risen to flood the land with activity. The energy was palpable, humming through every alleyway and street corner. People moved with purpose, some laughing, others barking deals, but none of them spared more than a passing glance for him. For once, he was just another face in the crowd, another traveler drawn by the pull of this bustling place.

The anonymity felt… nice.

Kageno wandered closer to the piers, weaving between groups of workers and merchants, careful not to get in the way of the frantic loading and unloading of goods. He passed a stack of crates labeled with unfamiliar symbols and stopped to watch as dockhands hauled large burlap sacks filled with grain onto a ship.

"Move those faster!" a gruff voice barked from the ship's gangplank. "Captain wants this cargo out by sundown!"

One of the workers grumbled under his breath, but his pace quickened, muscles straining as he hefted the next sack. Kageno tilted his head, briefly fascinated by the scale of the operation. The way people worked together here—efficient, coordinated—was unlike the quieter rhythms of the villages he'd passed through. There was no suspicion in their movements, no hesitation. Everyone here had a place and a purpose, all centered around the life of the harbor.

As he stood observing, the cries of gulls mingled with the low roar of waves breaking against the piers. He turned his gaze to the water, taking in the ships that dotted the harbor—merchant vessels with massive sails, smaller fishing boats bobbing between them, and a few sleek crafts that looked like they belonged to people of wealth and status. Each one seemed to tell a story of its own, carrying goods and tales from lands he could only imagine.

So this is Crestharbor, he thought, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He had wandered so far from Karstal that this place felt almost like another world entirely.

It wasn't the type of place he could picture staying in for long—too loud, too restless—but for now, it was exactly what he needed. A place where no one knew his name. A place where he could disappear into the crowd and savor the anonymity of being just another face in a city too busy to care.

Kageno let out a slow breath, adjusting the pack on his shoulders as he turned toward the nearest street leading into the heart of the city. "Time to see what Crestharbor has to offer," he muttered, stepping into the flow of people with the faintest sense of purpose.

For now, the city would take him in, and he would let it. There were no expectations here, no whispers of betrayal or suspicion. Just a harbor full of strangers and a road that had brought him somewhere new. Somewhere bigger.

And that, for now, was enough.

The sounds of Crestharbor faded slightly as Kageno wandered further down the edge of the piers, where the bustle of trade began to thin. The air here was saltier, heavier with the tang of the sea, and the planks beneath his boots creaked with every step. He found a quieter spot near an old, neglected dock, its wooden beams gray and splintered from years of weather and disuse. Seagulls perched lazily on posts, cawing at one another and watching him with curious eyes.

Kageno dropped his pack, kneeling near a pile of discarded crates that had been pushed up against the pier wall. Many were broken or hollow, the nails rusted or bent. A few looked sturdy enough to pull apart. He gave the area a quick glance—no one seemed to care about this forgotten corner—and set to work.

If he wanted to eat, he'd need coin, and if he wanted coin, he'd need something to trade. But Crestharbor's merchants were sharp, their goods priced far out of reach for a wanderer with no reputation to speak of. For now, Kageno decided, fish would have to be his currency. It was the one resource Crestharbor seemed to have in abundance, and no one would turn away a fresh catch.

He dug through the worn crates, scavenging nails that still held some strength and wood that hadn't rotted entirely. He found a length of frayed netting tangled beneath the debris and, after some patience, pulled free a surprisingly sturdy spool of twine. Not perfect, but serviceable. With a small knife he kept in his pack, Kageno carved a strip of wood into a rough rod, whittling it smooth enough to grip. It wasn't elegant—more driftwood than craftsmanship—but it would do the job.

"Fishing rod… assembled," he muttered dryly to himself, holding the makeshift tool aloft like a craftsman presenting his masterwork to no one in particular. The seagulls, unimpressed, gave him a single sharp caw before returning to their squabbling.

Securing the twine to the rod, Kageno fashioned a crude hook out of a nail, twisting the metal into a thin curve. He grinned faintly at the finished product—rough, but functional. He could almost hear a professional scoffing at him for being such a "drifter with a toy!" crafting tools out of scrap, and that suited him just fine.

Kageno settled at the edge of the dock, lowering himself carefully onto a beam that extended out over the water. The waves lapped gently against the wood below, a rhythmic and calming sound. He cast his line, watching the hooked end drop into the water with a quiet splash before settling into place.

The waiting began.

Fishing, he quickly realized, was both tedious and oddly peaceful. The water stretched out before him, wide and endless, the sunlight glittering off its surface like scattered shards of glass. Merchant ships continued their comings and goings further along the piers, but here, everything felt slower—like the world itself had decided to rest. Kageno leaned back slightly, bracing himself with his free hand against the beam, and let his mind drift.

His thoughts wandered to his travels—how far he'd come since leaving Karstal. He hadn't been sure what he was searching for, and he still wasn't. Claire's offer nagged at him like an itch he couldn't reach, but here, with nothing but the quiet sea and the pull of the line, it seemed smaller somehow. Right now, survival was enough.

A sharp tug on the rod pulled him out of his reverie. Kageno sat up quickly, his grip tightening as the line jerked taut. He braced his feet against the edge of the dock and pulled back, the rod bending under the strain. "Come on," he muttered, feeling resistance from the water below.

The line dipped, snapped back, and suddenly the weight lessened. With a quick motion, Kageno reeled the twine back in, and a silvery fish broke through the surface, flailing wildly. It wasn't large—maybe the size of his forearm—but it was fresh and fat, and that was good enough. He grinned faintly, unhooking the catch and setting it carefully into his pack.

"Not bad for a first try."

He cast the line again. Hours passed like this, with the gentle tug of the ocean pulling him into a rhythm—cast, wait, pull. Each successful catch was met with a quiet nod of satisfaction, his pack slowly filling with enough fish to trade or barter. By the time the sun sank low on the horizon, streaking the sky with warm oranges and purples, Kageno had caught enough to call the day a success. Seven fish, fresh and clean. Not much, perhaps, but enough for a hot meal and maybe even a coin or two to spare.

He packed up his tools, careful not to lose the rod or twine he'd cobbled together. It had served him well today, and there was no sense in wasting good work. Slinging his pack over one shoulder, Kageno cast one last glance out at the sea. The waters were darker now, kissed by twilight, and the distant lanterns of ships bobbed like fireflies in the gathering dusk.

"Crestharbor… maybe you're not so bad after all," he murmured under his breath, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

With his spoils in hand, he turned back toward the bustling city streets, where the smell of cooking fires and the hum of evening trade welcomed him. He didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but for tonight, he had something to offer, something to earn. And in a city like Crestharbor, that was enough to keep moving forward.

The early morning mist hung low over Crestharbor's docks, cool and crisp against Kageno's face as he made his way back to the quieter, forgotten stretch of pier where he had fished the day before. The city was already alive, though not yet roaring—merchants setting up their stalls, dockhands beginning their morning routines, and the distant clatter of carts over cobblestones humming like the city's waking breath.

Kageno adjusted his makeshift rod over his shoulder, the rough wood bumping lightly against his pack. Yesterday's efforts had earned him enough coin for a meal and a warm drink, and it hadn't been so bad sitting alone with the waves and gulls. He could get used to it, he supposed—simple, honest work with no one breathing down his neck or asking too many questions.

By the time he reached the edge of the old pier, the world seemed to still again, just as it had before. The waves lapped lazily against the wooden pilings, the horizon bathed in pale gold as the sun crept higher. Kageno sat on the same beam as before, deftly unrolling his twine and checking the crude hook. He cast his line into the water with a practiced flick of his wrist, the hook and bait sinking with a satisfying plunk.

"This is good enough," he muttered to himself, settling into a familiar rhythm. One fish at a time, one coin at a time.

The minutes passed quietly, save for the occasional cry of gulls or creak of the dock. Kageno liked it that way. The solitude gave him time to think, though lately, thinking too much made him restless. Claire's words still lingered in the back of his mind, though he shoved them away every time they resurfaced.

The line twitched suddenly, a faint tug. Kageno perked up, narrowing his eyes at the water. He carefully began reeling in the twine, feeling the weight of something pulling back—a good catch, perhaps.

Just as he was focused on landing the fish, a sharp sound broke the quiet.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Slow and deliberate, the sound of applause echoed behind him.

Kageno froze mid-motion, his brow twitching slightly. He turned his head just enough to look over his shoulder. Standing a short distance away, on the cracked planks of the pier, was a man unlike anyone Kageno had seen in Crestharbor thus far.

The stranger was tall and lean, his movements poised as though he belonged to the stage rather than a dock. His hair, a soft white-gold, fell neatly around his shoulders, and atop his head twitched two unmistakable cat-like ears, their fur catching the morning light. Beastkin—one of the feline variety. His piercing golden eyes watched Kageno with an amused glint, and though his clothing was simple—a loose tunic and dark trousers—it was tailored well enough to suggest wealth.

"That was quite the throw," the man said, his voice smooth and melodious. "I've seen fishermen struggle more with better equipment. You're resourceful, aren't you?"

Kageno sighed inwardly, turning his attention back to the water to finish reeling in his catch. The fish broke through the surface, flailing wildly, and he caught it deftly in his hand. Another decent one—its silvery scales glimmering faintly in the light.

"Is there something you want?" Kageno asked, tying the fish onto a length of twine with minimal fuss.

The beastkin stepped closer, hands casually resting in his pockets. "Straight to the point. I like that," he said with a faint smile, his golden ears twitching slightly. "Yes, actually. I was watching you work, and I'd like to buy your catch."

Kageno turned to face him fully now, skeptical. "Buy it? From me?"

"Of course. Fish like that are not so easily found at the market—at least not fresh ones from these waters." The man's gaze flickered to the fish on the twine, his smile softening slightly. "My daughter, Lilim, has a particular fondness for that type of fish. She won't stop talking about it. You'd make her very happy."

Kageno's eyes narrowed faintly. This man was too smooth, too practiced, like someone who was used to getting what he wanted. "Why not buy from a proper merchant? I doubt I'm the only one fishing in Crestharbor."

"You're not," the man admitted with a lazy shrug. "But yours are fresher, and it's not every day I see someone fishing here of all places." His golden eyes lingered on Kageno for a moment, assessing. "Besides, I prefer to reward skill when I see it. And, as I said, it's my daughter's favorite."

Kageno studied him carefully. The man didn't seem hostile, and there was an earnestness to the mention of his daughter that was hard to fake. Finally, he sighed. "Fine. How much?"

The beastkin's grin widened, his feline ears perking up. "Ah, excellent. How about this—two silver coins for everything you've caught so far?"

Kageno blinked, caught off-guard. Two silver was generous for a handful of fish, especially ones caught with a rod cobbled together from scrap. Suspiciously generous. "Two silver? You're not haggling?"

"Would you prefer that I did?" the man teased, his smile never faltering. "Call it convenience. You're here, I'm here, and I get to return home with my daughter's favorite meal. Seems like a fair deal to me."

Kageno hesitated for only a moment before shrugging. "Deal."

The man produced the coins with a practiced motion, the silver catching the light as he handed them over. Kageno accepted them, pocketing the payment as the beastkin gathered the fish Kageno had strung together. He handled them carefully, as though they were far more valuable than simple catches of the day.

"Your work is appreciated," the man said, offering a polite nod. "I imagine this isn't the last time we'll meet, young fisherman."

"Don't count on it," Kageno replied flatly, though he watched the man curiously as he turned to leave, fish in hand.

The beastkin paused briefly, glancing back over his shoulder with a faint smile. "For what it's worth, Lilim will be delighted. I'll let her know someone resourceful helped put dinner on the table."

With that, he walked back up the dock, his golden ears flicking as he disappeared into the crowd beyond the piers.

Kageno sat back on the beam, absently turning one of the silver coins over in his palm. The encounter had been strange, but he couldn't deny the feeling of satisfaction at earning more than he expected. The man had called him "resourceful," and for once, Kageno didn't mind the compliment.

"Well," he muttered to himself, flicking the coin into the air and catching it again. "I guess fishing isn't so bad after all."

He glanced back out to the waves, the ocean calm and endless, before casting his line once more.

~!~

The bustle of Crestharbor faded behind him, replaced by the quiet rustling of the open road and the rhythmic crunch of his boots against dirt. Kageno adjusted the pack slung over his shoulder, heavier now with a few provisions he'd managed to buy with his hard-earned silver. Crestharbor had been a welcome stop—a city alive with trade, noise, and opportunity—but he'd lingered long enough. He wasn't one for crowds or permanence, not yet. The road called to him again, as it always seemed to.

The path out of the city twisted inland, weaving through low hills and sparsely wooded fields. Clouds gathered above him, thick and gray, hinting at rain later in the evening. Kageno sighed softly, his breath forming a faint mist in the cooling air. Find shelter before dark, he reminded himself. The road at night, soaked and muddy, was nobody's friend.

It wasn't long before he spotted it: a crumbling silhouette rising on the horizon, nestled at the edge of an old forest. As he drew closer, the form took shape—an abandoned keep, its stone walls worn and weathered, half reclaimed by ivy and time. One tower still stood tall, though cracks snaked through its surface, and the main gate sagged open, hanging loosely on rusted hinges.

Kageno paused at the threshold, scanning the grounds carefully. The keep was quiet, save for the soft whistle of wind threading through broken windows and the occasional distant caw of crows perched atop the parapets. It was empty, forgotten—exactly what he was looking for.

"Better than sleeping in the rain," he muttered, stepping through the broken gate.

Inside, the keep was more intact than he expected. Dust lay thick over the floors, and the air smelled of old wood and stone, but parts of the structure still held. He found a corner of the main hall where the roof remained solid, dragging an old bench closer to set his pack down. After gathering a bit of kindling and rotted wood from the broken furniture, he managed to coax a small fire to life, its warmth filling the empty space.

Satisfied, Kageno stood and began to explore.

Most of the keep had been picked clean long ago—doors missing, cabinets broken, their contents taken or decayed beyond use. Yet, as he rummaged through an old storeroom near the kitchens, something caught his eye: a tarnished brass candlestick half-buried beneath a pile of crumbling cloth. He pulled it free, brushing off the dust. It wasn't much to look at, but it was solid and heavy. The kind of thing an opportunistic trader might take off his hands.

"Not bad," he murmured, holding it up to the dim light filtering through a cracked window. The golden gleam beneath the tarnish hinted at worth, and worth meant coin.

Further rummaging revealed more odds and ends—an old iron cooking pot that was battered but usable, a small, ornate key that must have once belonged to something important, and a cracked but intricately carved wooden box. Kageno held the box in his hands, running his fingers over the faintly visible patterns etched into its surface. It was damaged, but there was craftsmanship in its design—something someone might still pay for.

"Well, if I can't use it, someone else might," he said, tucking the finds carefully into his pack. These small treasures would give him leverage the next time he reached a trading post or town. Haggling with merchants was easier when you had something interesting to barter, and Kageno had learned long ago that you could sell almost anything if you found the right buyer.

Satisfied with his haul, he returned to his small fire, the glow of the embers filling the otherwise empty hall. Outside, the sky had darkened, and the first drops of rain began to tap softly against the broken stones of the keep. Kageno pulled his cloak around himself, leaning back against the cold wall. The fire crackled quietly, offering its small comfort against the growing chill.

As he stared into the flames, his thoughts wandered again. Crestharbor already felt distant, though it had been a good stop—a place where he'd made coin and met faces he wouldn't soon forget. But that life wasn't for him, not yet. He didn't know where he was going, or what he was looking for, but that wasn't new. The road was where he belonged for now. One step at a time. One town after another.

Outside, the wind picked up, whistling through the empty corridors like the keep itself was breathing. Kageno glanced toward the old doorways, his sharp eyes watching for any signs of movement. But there was nothing—only shadows and the distant hiss of rain against stone.

"Another quiet night, then," he said softly, as much to himself as to the empty hall.

Kageno closed his eyes, resting his head back against the wall. Tomorrow, when the rain cleared, he'd set out again. With luck, he'd find a new town or village on the next road, where he could trade his finds for a warm meal and some supplies. The road, after all, always led somewhere new. And for now, that was enough.

As the fire crackled and the rain pattered steadily outside, Kageno drifted to sleep, the abandoned keep standing silent guard over him—its halls empty, but its purpose not entirely forgotten.

~!~

The road had stretched on for a week—long days of walking and cold nights under open skies. The rhythm of travel had become second nature to Kageno, each day blurring into the next. By the time the town appeared on the horizon, nestled between low hills and protected by sturdy wooden walls, he felt the faintest hint of relief. It wasn't the desperation of someone seeking refuge, but rather the satisfaction of finding what he'd been quietly looking for: civilization. A new place.

From a distance, it was clear this town was no Karstal. Where Karstal had been quaint and vulnerable, this settlement was alive with purpose. The walls were reinforced and patrolled, their structure solid and clean of the neglect that had often marked smaller villages. A wide gate loomed ahead, manned by guards who watched passersby with steady, practiced gazes—not suspicious, just cautious. Inside, buildings rose with more care, their timber frames sturdy, their thatched roofs neatly maintained. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, and the sounds of life spilled over the walls—hammers pounding, wheels creaking, and distant laughter mixed with shouts of trade.

Kageno let out a small breath, adjusting the pack on his shoulder. "Looks like this place has its act together," he muttered under his breath, faint amusement tugging at his lips.

The guards at the gate gave him a once-over as he approached. He kept his expression neutral, meeting their eyes without challenge. "Traveler?" one of them asked, though not unkindly.

"Passing through," Kageno replied. "Looking to trade."

The guard nodded, stepping aside and waving him through. "Keep out of trouble, stranger."

Trouble? Kageno nearly smirked. He had no intention of drawing attention to himself—not here. As he stepped through the gate, the town opened up before him, a mixture of bustling activity and well-kept order. The streets were broad and clean, lined with merchant stalls selling everything from vegetables to tools, fabrics to handmade trinkets. There was an energy here that Karstal hadn't had—lively, industrious, and guarded against the same kinds of bandit attacks that had nearly destroyed other villages.

It felt secure. The people here walked with purpose, not with fear.

Kageno moved through the market square, letting his eyes wander over the various stalls. He wasn't in a hurry. After all, he had things to trade—old, worn relics salvaged from the abandoned keep a week prior. The candlestick, the battered iron pot, the ornate wooden box, even the strange little key he'd found had all been wrapped carefully in his pack. They weren't treasures, but they had enough age and charm to draw interest.

He stopped at a stall run by a wiry, sharp-eyed merchant, whose tables were cluttered with mismatched goods: tools, charms, cutlery, and other odds and ends.

"Looking to sell?" the merchant asked, eyeing him with professional interest.

Kageno nodded, setting his pack down and pulling out the items one by one. "Nothing fancy, but they're solid," he said as the merchant inspected them. The candlestick, though tarnished, had a sturdy weight. The carved wooden box, while cracked, still held a certain artistry that could appeal to someone nostalgic or wealthy enough to have it restored.

The merchant hummed thoughtfully, holding up the brass candlestick to the light. "Good craftsmanship under the grime. Someone'll want this." He examined the pot next, giving it a quick rap with his knuckles. "Still sturdy. You didn't find these lying around, I'll wager."

"An old ruin," Kageno replied simply, unwilling to elaborate. "Take it or leave it."

The merchant smirked but seemed pleased with the finds. After a bit of haggling—something Kageno had grown adept at over his travels—they agreed on a fair price. Kageno left with a pouch of coin clinking softly at his hip. It wasn't a fortune, but it was enough.

By late afternoon, Kageno had stocked up on supplies—things he'd long since grown tired of going without. A proper bedroll, sturdy and thick enough to keep the cold off his back. A new cloak, less threadbare than the one he wore now. A small tin kettle for boiling water or cooking when the opportunity arose, and a simple flint set to replace his dwindling fire-making tools.

When he finally tucked the last of it into his pack, he allowed himself a small, satisfied nod. It wasn't much, but it was enough to let him camp in relative comfort the next time he found himself under an open sky. No more huddling under half-broken trees or shivering through the night.

The market square had started to quiet as the sun sank lower, streaking the horizon with orange and purple. Kageno wandered through the town once more, studying its layout and its people. The guards moved in predictable shifts, the merchants packed up their wares with efficiency, and the townsfolk talked and laughed with the easy familiarity of people who trusted their neighbors.

This place is solid, Kageno thought, his eyes drifting toward the sturdy walls in the distance. Well-defended. Well-run.

It reminded him, vaguely, of that minor noble's barony—strong, alive, built to endure. He couldn't help but wonder if Claire's offer still stood, if he'd gone back to her home with her. Would her home feel like this? Could he belong in a place like this, or would suspicion always follow him?

Kageno shook the thought off. He wasn't ready for answers yet. For now, this was enough: a new town, a few coins in his pocket, and supplies that would carry him a little further down the road.

Tomorrow, he would leave again. The road was his only plan, and it stretched endlessly ahead, waiting for him to take the next step.

~!~

The smell of smoke lingered faintly in the air, carried by the wind from somewhere far beyond the town's walls. The townsfolk whispered of a fire—a blaze that had torn through a nearby forest and blocked the main trade road leading east. Travelers grumbled about delays while traders adjusted their schedules, muttering curses at their bad luck. For Kageno, it meant staying an extra two days in the town.

He hadn't planned on lingering, but the road was closed, and there was no sense in walking into smoldering ash. The delay left him restless, wandering through the town's winding streets and markets to keep himself occupied. With his supplies stocked, coin stored, and no pressing need to trade, Kageno found himself aimlessly drifting. He didn't mind the calm; the days passed quietly enough, and the town's lively rhythm began to grow on him.

It was during one of these walks, late in the evening, that he first heard it—the faint notes of a piano floating through the cool night air. The sound stopped him mid-step, his ears catching the soft, steady melody weaving through the distant hum of the town. The music came from a small inn nestled near the heart of the town, its windows glowing with the golden warmth of lanternlight. He could see faint silhouettes through the panes—patrons talking, a few shadows moving lazily—but the music was what pulled at him.

The piano's notes were soft, deliberate. They spoke of quiet elegance, of something practiced and refined, and yet they held a subtle melancholy, like the remnants of a song forgotten halfway through. Kageno found himself standing still, listening longer than he meant to.

Why does this feel familiar?

He frowned, brows furrowing as he let the sound wash over him. Something stirred at the edges of his thoughts, faint and ghostlike—images that flickered like reflections in rippling water. His hands twitched, and he looked down at them, as though expecting to see something different. He flexed his fingers slowly, instinctively pressing his thumb and forefinger against his palm, mimicking the movement of… playing?

A memory surfaced—soft, hazy, and incomplete. His hands rested on ivory keys, his fingers gliding across them with ease. He couldn't see the instrument clearly, but he felt it beneath his fingertips—the cool smoothness of the keys, the satisfying weight of each note struck just right. The melody he'd been playing was… something simple, something soft, but beautiful.

The memory slipped through his mind like smoke, fleeting and impossible to hold. Kageno let out a slow breath, rubbing at the back of his neck as the music from the inn continued. He didn't remember where that piano had been, or who had taught him to play. He didn't even know if he'd been good at it. But the feeling lingered—the quiet satisfaction of creating music, of losing himself in the sound.

The thought brought an unexpected calm, settling the restlessness that had been gnawing at him since the delay began. It was strange how something so simple, so unexpected, could bring comfort when he least expected it. Kageno stood there a while longer, the cool night air brushing against his face as he listened to the unseen pianist continue their song. The music rose and fell, soft and slow, like waves lapping at the edge of his thoughts.

Finally, with a faint exhale, Kageno turned and walked away, the melody still ringing in his ears. He didn't understand the memory, or why it had come to him now. But for the first time in days, his mind felt quiet—less burdened by questions he couldn't answer. It was as though the music had smoothed out the rough edges of his thoughts, leaving only silence in its place.

Maybe one day I'll play again, he thought, though he wasn't sure where the idea had come from. He pushed it aside quickly, as if embarrassed by the thought. He had no need for dreams like that—not yet.

For now, he would wait. The road would reopen in time, and when it did, he would leave. But as Kageno lay in his rented bedroll that night, staring up at the wooden beams above him, he could still hear the faint notes of the piano echoing in his memory. The music soothed him, pulling him into a deep, dreamless sleep where, for the first time in weeks, he didn't feel like a young man running from shadows.

~!~

The eastern road stretched endlessly beneath Kageno's boots, quiet save for the rustling wind that tugged at the trees lining the path. The fire had finally cleared, and though the forest still bore faint scars of the blaze—blackened bark and the lingering scent of smoke—the way forward was open again. Kageno traveled with his usual pace, steady and unhurried, his newly acquired supplies making the journey easier.

By late afternoon, he spotted it in the distance: a small rest stop nestled at the crossroads where two trade routes intersected. From afar, it was unassuming—a handful of wooden buildings, a stable with a fenced-in paddock, and a large pavilion tent set up for travelers. But as Kageno approached, the lively hum of activity reached his ears. Wagons were parked in neat rows, beasts of burden grunted softly in the stables, and groups of travelers gathered under the pavilion, eating, resting, and talking.

What caught his attention most, though, was the sheer variety of people.

Humans milled about, wearing the colorful clothing of traders, farmers, and mercenaries. Nearby, a group of beastkin laughed heartily—one with wolf-like ears, another with a bushy fox tail swaying lazily behind him. Children darted between legs and barrels, giggling as they kicked a ball of twine back and forth. It was a peaceful, vibrant scene, one Kageno hadn't expected on a quiet eastern road.

He made his way closer, his gaze flickering from face to face, taking in the atmosphere. But then his eyes stopped, caught by something—or someone—he hadn't expected.

Seated under a shaded corner of the pavilion was an elf.

Kageno slowed his steps unconsciously, his brows rising slightly in surprise. He had heard of elves, of course—travelers whispered stories about their beauty, their grace, and their rumored connection to the natural world—but he had never seen one with his own eyes. And now, here she was.

She sat with quiet poise, seemingly unbothered by the bustling crowd around her. Her hair was striking, a shimmering cascade of aquamarine blue that seemed to ripple like the surface of a lake under sunlight. It framed her face perfectly, cascading over her shoulders like liquid silk. Her features were sharp yet delicate, her skin flawless and almost luminous, as though untouched by time.

Beside her sat a younger girl—perhaps her daughter, or younger sibling—who bore an uncanny resemblance to the elf. Her hair was the same aquatic shade, though styled into twin tails that bounced lightly as she moved. The girl's large, curious eyes swept over the rest stop, wide with fascination as she nibbled absentmindedly on a piece of bread.

For a moment, Kageno simply observed, his steps having come to an unintentional halt. They really are as otherworldly as the stories say, he thought, feeling a strange mix of awe and curiosity. The presence of the elves was both natural and out of place, as if they were part of the scenery and yet separate from it, like wildflowers blooming in an otherwise mundane field.

The younger elf girl suddenly noticed him staring. Her aquamarine eyes blinked once before tilting her head curiously, a small smile tugging at her lips. She nudged the older elf—her mother, presumably—who followed the girl's gaze and looked up.

Their eyes met.

Kageno tensed slightly but didn't look away. The older elf's gaze was calm and steady, almost unreadable. There was no hostility there, nor any particular curiosity—just quiet observation, as though she were studying him the same way he had been studying her. For a moment, they shared an unspoken acknowledgment: two strangers crossing paths in the flow of the world.

Not wanting to seem rude, Kageno nodded faintly, a small gesture of respect. To his surprise, the older elf inclined her head slightly in return, her expression softening just enough to seem welcoming.

"Humans and beastkin aren't unusual," he muttered to himself as he turned away, resuming his steps toward the pavilion. "But elves… I guess this place really does see everyone."

He made his way to a food stall, fishing out a small coin to buy himself a simple meal. As he sat on the edge of the pavilion with his back against a support post, he let his eyes drift back toward the two elves. The younger one laughed at something her mother whispered to her, her twin tails bouncing as she wriggled in her seat, clearly eager to explore. The older elf's smile—soft and warm—was a fleeting glimpse of the bond between them, something both familiar and foreign to Kageno.

He didn't know where they had come from, nor where they were going, but there was something comforting in their presence. The world, as wide and unpredictable as it was, felt a little bigger today.

Kageno chewed thoughtfully on his bread, the noise of the rest stop continuing around him. He would leave again tomorrow, as he always did, but for now, he was content to sit and watch the world go by. For once, he didn't mind the delay.

~!~

The forest opened into a clearing, sunlight streaming through the breaks in the canopy above. Kageno crouched low at the edge of the rise, his sharp eyes scanning the scene unfolding below. A group of beastkin—boys and girls with shaggy, dark hair and twitching animal ears—were engaged in what could only be described as organized chaos.

They were fighting. Not out of anger, but for fun—grappling, tackling, and shoving each other with wild, reckless energy. Their laughter and triumphant shouts echoed through the trees, a rhythm of unbridled life. A boy with wolf-like ears wrestled another to the ground, crowing his victory before being blindsided by a girl who leaped onto his back with a fierce grin. Another pair tangled and rolled through the grass, limbs flailing as they tried to pin each other, their tails swishing furiously in the air.

Kageno tilted his head slightly, recognizing the pattern. It wasn't violence—it was play. A rough, primal version of games for dominance. He could see the rules at work, unspoken but understood. There was no true malice here, just the joy of testing strength and spirit against one another.

But as he continued to observe, his attention shifted to the edge of the clearing, where someone sat apart from the fray.

A girl—small and wiry, perhaps a year or two younger than the rest—was perched on a low patch of grass. Her dark hair was shaggy and untamed, falling in uneven strands around her face, and her wolf-like ears drooped faintly against her head. Though she made no move to join the group, her eyes betrayed everything—wide, purple, and filled with yearning. She watched the others with a look that struck Kageno somewhere deep, her expression wavering between quiet admiration and longing.

Her tail twitched restlessly behind her, a sure sign of her frustration, and her small hands tugged idly at tufts of grass beneath her knees. Every time one of the other beastkin howled in triumph or laughed uproariously at a particularly good tackle, the girl's gaze flickered toward them with a kind of hope—only for it to dim again when they failed to notice her.

Left out, Kageno thought grimly, his brow furrowing.

The scene was painfully familiar. She wanted to join, to leap in and lose herself in the chaos, but something held her back. Was it hesitation? Was she not allowed? Or was she simply overlooked—a runt in their eyes, too small or unworthy to be part of their games? Whatever the reason, her yearning was unmistakable.

Kageno's hand twitched slightly at his side. Part of him wanted to say something, to call out or step in and give her the chance she so clearly wanted. But his gaze lingered on the group, their movements fierce and full of pride. Beastkin culture wasn't something he understood well, but he had heard enough stories to know their ways were tied to strength, competition, and hierarchy. This might be normal for them, he thought, though the justification felt hollow.

Would stepping in help? Or would it make things worse for her? He wasn't part of their world, and the last thing he wanted was to insult their customs. To a pack, an outsider interfering might be seen as an affront, a challenge to their unspoken rules. He didn't want to draw that kind of attention—not for himself, and certainly not for her.

The girl's ears perked briefly as another beastkin roared victoriously, only to droop again when the others fell into another tangle of limbs and shouts. She tugged harder at the grass in front of her, frustration plain on her face now, but she still didn't move closer.

Kageno exhaled slowly, stepping back from the clearing and blending once more into the trees. He couldn't do anything, not without risking harm to her position or his own. It gnawed at him—leaving her there, longing and unseen—but it wasn't his place to change how her world worked.

Some things are bigger than me, he thought bitterly as he resumed his trek along the path through the forest. His steps were steady, but his mind lingered on the image of her purple eyes—how bright and alive they had been, even with the weight of yearning pressing against them. It reminded him, uncomfortably, of his own past—of watching others play their games, always just out of reach.

"Maybe next time," he muttered softly, though he knew the girl would never hear him.

The sounds of the clearing faded behind him—shouts, laughter, and the dull thud of bodies hitting earth—until only the quiet rustle of leaves surrounded him once more. Kageno's expression was unreadable as he moved through the woods, but the girl's purple eyes followed him in his thoughts, a small ache that wouldn't quite fade.

~!~

The landscape had shifted as Kageno wandered further east, the forest growing denser and the air cooler with the subtle scent of earth and rain. When he emerged from the tree line onto a cobbled road, his eyes widened faintly. In the valley beyond, nestled among silver-barked trees and gentle hills, lay a sprawling city unlike any he had seen before.

The city seemed almost woven into the natural world. Tall, elegant buildings with sweeping arches and delicate carvings rose among the trees, their pale stone blending harmoniously with the forest that surrounded them. Ivy crept along walls, and the branches of ancient trees stretched protectively overhead, their leaves casting soft patterns of light and shadow on the streets below. Towers rose like slender spires into the sky, their tips catching the afternoon sun. It was a city of grace, quiet and dignified, humming with an undercurrent of life that felt… old.

"This place…" Kageno murmured, adjusting his pack as he made his way closer. His steps slowed as he passed beneath the large, open archway leading into the city proper. A plaque of flowing script—elven in origin—was carved into the stone, its meaning lost on him. Still, the reverence in its craftsmanship was clear.

He hadn't intended to linger, but curiosity won out. Something about this place pulled at him, whispering of stories long forgotten. As he wandered through the cobbled streets, he realized the reason the city felt so unique: elves. Everywhere he turned, he saw them—tall and lithe, their features sharp and timeless, their movements flowing with a natural elegance that bordered on otherworldly.

The city's name came to him from a passing merchant's mutter: Lys Anorel, named for an ancestor of legendary repute among the elves. It made sense, then, why this place teemed with them—he had unknowingly entered one of the largest elven centers in the country, a place where their traditions and presence held strong.

As the day passed, Kageno spent his time observing quietly, blending as much as he could into the city's rhythm. It was nothing like the human towns or Crestharbor's bustle. The elves' way of life moved slower, deliberate, as though each action was carefully considered.

Children played near fountains adorned with carvings of leaves and flowing water, their laughter soft and musical. Merchants sold goods of exquisite craftsmanship—delicate jewelry, finely carved wooden tools, and fabrics that shimmered like water when the light hit them. Warriors in well-forged armor walked the streets with graceful confidence, their movements lacking the clatter and stiffness he was used to seeing among human soldiers.

Kageno leaned against a low wall near one of the city's open squares, his eyes quietly studying the people as they passed. It was then that he noticed something—or rather, someone—who stood out even in this crowd of elven grace.

A warrior woman of an elf strode purposefully across the square, her long cloak flowing behind her. Her armor, though polished and sleek, bore marks of wear, suggesting it wasn't merely for show. Her hair, brilliant platinum, was tied back tightly, though a few strands escaped to frame her sharp face. In her hand, she held the wrist of a younger elf girl, who half-skipped to keep up with her.

The girl had vibrant blonde hair, falling in soft straight lines around her face, and her bright, blue and curious eyes darted around the square with excitement. Her small hands gestured animatedly as she spoke, though her voice was lost to the hum of the crowd. She clearly had energy to spare, but her older companion tempered it, guiding her forward with a protective ease.

Walking just behind them, however, was someone else who caught Kageno's attention.

Another girl, perhaps the same age as the blonde, but quieter than her companion. Her silver hair, cut to her shoulders, swayed slightly as she walked, her demeanor calm and composed in contrast to her friend's bubbly energy. Her eyes, a cooler shade of blue, moved with quiet curiosity as she observed her surroundings. She wasn't timid, exactly—more like she carried a quiet confidence that didn't need to be shouted aloud. At least, that is what Kageno observed.

The three made an Interesting group—the stern but steady warrior woman, the energetic young girl with long strands of gold, and the silver-haired elf who watched the world with quiet attentiveness. Kageno couldn't help but wonder about them. Were they family? Friends? Apprentices under the care of the warrior? Whatever their connection, the dynamic was clear—the younger two trusted and looked up to the older elf, their bond evident in how naturally they stayed close.

For a fleeting moment, Kageno considered approaching—asking about the city, or even just making idle conversation. But the thought passed as quickly as it came. He wasn't here to disrupt anyone's day, least of all theirs. He was an observer, nothing more, and that suited him fine.

As the trio moved further into the square and disappeared down a shaded street, Kageno let out a quiet breath. He glanced up at the open sky above, the trees swaying gently against the pale blue, and allowed himself a small, contented smile.

Lys Anorel was unlike anywhere he had been—a place older than he could comprehend, full of people who seemed to belong to a different rhythm of life. He didn't know how long he would stay, but for now, the city welcomed him without question, letting him move through its streets like a shadow.

With his pack slung over his shoulder, Kageno pushed away from the wall and began walking again, his eyes drifting over the elegant spires and ancient arches.

For now, he was content to observe, to let the city of elves hum quietly around him.

~!~

The sun hung low in the sky as Kageno made his way toward the edge of Lys Anorel. The elegant streets, carved from pale stone, seemed to glow faintly in the golden light, as though the city itself breathed with the rhythm of the setting sun. His time here had been quiet, a reprieve from the road, but now it was time to move on. He'd lingered long enough.

As he turned down one last street leading to the outer gates, a small commotion caught his eye. A figure had stumbled on the smooth cobbled road, arms flailing briefly before landing in an unceremonious heap. The sound of a light oof echoed through the otherwise calm square.

Kageno blinked, pausing mid-step to watch. The fallen figure was an elf—a young girl by the look of her, though with elves, appearances were always tricky. Her long, dark hair had spilled across the ground in a glossy tangle, the dark strands contrasting sharply with the pale stone. It seemed almost to ripple, as though it had a will of its own, before settling softly around her shoulders.

Kageno sighed, shaking his head faintly as he approached. "You alright?"

The elf let out a faint, muffled groan before slowly propping herself up on her elbows. "I—I'm fine! Just…" She trailed off, her cheeks darkening as she pushed herself up. Her attempt to stand was clumsy at best, her legs wobbling slightly before Kageno stepped in, offering her a hand.

"Here," he said simply.

She hesitated for half a second before taking his hand, her fingers light but cool against his palm. With a gentle tug, he helped her to her feet. Her hair—long, silky, and somehow alive-looking—seemed to fix itself into place, settling back over her shoulders in perfect smoothness. It was a strange contrast to her earlier flailing.

"Thank you," the elf murmured, brushing herself off. She finally looked up at him, and Kageno was struck by how soft her features were, though her eyes—deep, dark blue and slightly unfocused—held a quiet air of absentmindedness.

"No problem," Kageno replied, studying her briefly. "You sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine!" she insisted with a wave of her hand. "Truly, just a little misstep. Nothing unusual."

As if to prove her point, she turned on her heel to walk away with a confidence that didn't seem entirely earned. Kageno watched, half expecting her to move gracefully down the street. Instead, she stumbled over absolutely nothing—just air—and barely caught herself in time with a clumsy half-hop.

Kageno's brow twitched, his lips parting slightly as he blinked. Did she just trip… on air?

The elf straightened, pretending as though nothing had happened, and briskly continued her way down the street, her long hair swaying elegantly behind her. Kageno could only stare, the corner of his mouth tugging upward in a mix of amusement and concern.

"She's going to walk into a tree at this rate," he muttered, shaking his head. He didn't know whether to follow her or simply let fate take its course. "I hope she doesn't break anything—herself included."

A short while later, Kageno sat in the shaded corner of the market square, his hands busy with a small project. Feeling the weight of his coin pouch—or rather, the lack of weight—he decided to make use of what little scrap he had. Some thin wood, spare twine, and a bit of carved ingenuity were enough to bring his idea to life.

The result was simple but charming: a small wooden bird, its wings strung on a joint that made them flap gently when the string was pulled. It wasn't much, but toys like these often caught the eye of traveling merchants or townsfolk who had children to entertain. Kageno turned the toy over in his hands, satisfied with the result, before standing and approaching a nearby merchant's stall.

"Trade or sell," he said, holding up the small bird. "Simple, but it works."

The merchant took it, turning it over in his hands with a skeptical eye. "It's quaint," he admitted grudgingly, testing the wings with a small tug of the string. The bird's wooden wings flapped gently. "Could amuse someone's kid for a while, I suppose—"

"I'll take it."

The soft voice cut through the conversation. Kageno turned, surprised, as a young elf girl approached the stall. She was small, no older than twelve, her steps careful and deliberate as though she might slip away if the world moved too fast. Her hair immediately caught Kageno's attention—it was dark brown, a rarity among elves who often carried shades of gold, silver, or pale platinum. It fell around her shoulders in messy, slightly uneven strands, as though cut without much thought for neatness.

But what struck him most were her eyes—deep purple, large and luminous, their color and brightness as unusual as her hair. They held a quiet depth, as though they had seen far more than a girl her age should have. For a moment, Kageno found himself staring. Dark hair and purple eyes? She really is an oddity here.

"I'll take it," she repeated softly, holding out a small handful of coins. Her voice, while polite, sounded tired. Dark shadows faintly rimmed her pale skin, evidence of sleepless nights. It wasn't the kind of exhaustion that came from a simple lack of rest—it felt deeper, heavier, like it had worn at her for days.

The merchant hesitated, glancing between Kageno and the girl. "Are you sure? It's just a toy, miss."

The girl ignored him, her attention fixed on the wooden bird as though it were something precious. She lifted her hand slightly, the coins jingling faintly. "It's fine," she said softly. "I'll take it."

The merchant shrugged and took the coins, clearly unbothered. "It's yours."

The girl accepted the bird with surprising care, holding it close as though it might break if mishandled. She turned the toy over in her hands, inspecting the carved wings and joints with a faint, unreadable expression. Then, with slow deliberation, she pulled the string. The wings flapped gently, and for the faintest moment, a small, tired smile appeared on her lips.

"It's nice," she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else.

Kageno watched her closely, his curiosity piqued. Between the rarity of her appearance—dark brown hair and purple eyes—and the air of exhaustion that hung around her like a weight, she stood out sharply among the elegant elves of Lys Anorel. He felt a brief, inexplicable urge to ask her something, anything, but the words didn't come.

Before he could decide, the girl glanced up at him with those striking purple eyes and nodded faintly. "Thank you," she said simply.

Then, without another word, she turned and walked away, the wooden bird cradled carefully in her hands. Her steps were quiet and deliberate, but her posture carried a weariness that didn't match her age. Kageno frowned slightly as he watched her go, his eyes lingering on her small figure disappearing into the crowd.

She looks like she hasn't slept in days, he thought, his brow furrowing. Her exhaustion seemed so out of place in this city of grace and calm.

The merchant let out a small huff, pocketing the coins the girl had left. "Strange kid," he muttered, shaking his head. "Not often you see one like her—brown hair and all. Probably from one of the old bloodlines."

Kageno didn't reply, his thoughts still following the girl. Old bloodlines? The merchant's words explained little, but Kageno knew better than to pry. Elves held secrets the way their trees held roots—deep and quietly.

Letting out a soft breath, Kageno pocketed his own share of coins and turned back toward the road leading out of Lys Anorel. His time here was done. The road called to him, as it always did, but the girl with the dark hair and tired eyes lingered in his thoughts longer than he expected.

"Hope she gets some rest," he muttered under his breath, slinging his pack over his shoulder.

He didn't look back as he left the city behind, but the memory of her quiet form, clutching the toy with such care, stayed with him. It was a small moment—fleeting and strange, like so many others he'd experienced on his journey. But it was moments like this that marked the road he walked, even when he wasn't sure why.

~!~

~A Month later~

The road south stretched long and steady, bordered by tall grasses and the occasional grove of trees. The farther Kageno walked, the softer the forest behind him became, its ancient silver trees and elven spires fading into a distant memory. In their place, rolling hills sprawled out before him, wide and unyielding, painted green and gold in the late afternoon light.

Kageno crested a hill, pausing mid-step as the sight before him unfolded. A valley, vast and vibrant, stretched out below. Rich farmland spread across the land in careful rows, the crops swaying gently with the breeze. Further beyond, vineyards sprawled like ribbons of emerald, their vines heavy with fruit that promised harvests of prosperity. It was a scene so alive, so ordered and brimming with purpose, that for a moment, Kageno simply stood still, taking it all in.

"This place…" he muttered to himself, his voice carried off by the wind. There was something oddly familiar about it, though he couldn't place why. It reminded him of Crestharbor's bounty, but this was different. There was no bustling chaos of trade or the harsh scent of saltwater—only the hum of farmers hard at work, their silhouettes dotted across the land as they toiled under the afternoon sun.

But his gaze didn't linger on the fields for long.

Up ahead, standing alone atop the next hill, was a figure he hadn't expected to see again.

Claire.

Her black hair rippled lightly in the breeze, tied back neatly to keep it from her face. She stood tall and poised, hands on her hips as she looked out over the valley. There was an air of quiet authority about her, but also a hint of weariness, as though she had been standing there for some time, watching over the land and its people.

Kageno frowned faintly, his steps slowing as he moved closer. "Of all people to find here…"

Claire heard him, turning slightly as his shadow stretched across the hilltop. Her expression shifted as she saw him—surprise flickered briefly across her sharp features, but it quickly softened into something calmer, almost expectant.

"Kageno," she said, as if his name alone was explanation enough for his sudden reappearance. Her tone carried the same confidence as always, steady and sure. "I had a feeling our paths might cross again."

Kageno stopped a short distance away, tilting his head as he studied her. "You say that like you planned it."

"I didn't." Claire turned back toward the valley, her gaze sweeping across the farmers and workers below. "But I'm not surprised, either. You have a habit of showing up where you're needed, whether you realize it or not."

Kageno let out a soft huff, crossing his arms over his chest. "Don't go making me sound noble. I'm just passing through."

"Is that so?" Claire glanced back at him, one brow lifting slightly. "Then you picked a fine place to wander into." She gestured toward the valley below with one gloved hand.

"This is where I live. My father's lands."

Kageno blinked, his eyes flickering back to the vineyards and farms. He hadn't realized it, but this was the place Claire had spoken of before, the barony that needed strength and leadership to thrive. Somehow, he had found his way here—not by choice, but as if the road itself had led him to this moment.

Claire turned to face him fully, her expression calm but firm, the wind tugging lightly at her cloak. "You've seen this place. You've seen how hard these people work." Her tone softened, though it still carried its usual authority. "I wasn't lying when I said we need people like you, Kageno. People with the skills and the mind to make a difference."

Kageno frowned, his gaze drifting back toward the workers. There was something admirable about their quiet determination, their unwavering focus as they tilled the earth and tended the vineyards. It wasn't chaos or desperation—it was purpose, plain and simple.

"And what makes you think I'd fit in here?" Kageno asked after a moment, his voice quieter.

Claire met his gaze steadily, her dark eyes unwavering. "Because you're more than what you think you are," she said, her words carrying the weight of certainty. "You don't belong to the road, Kageno. You belong where you can build something—where you can help people."

For a long moment, silence hung between them. Kageno looked away, the faint breeze tugging at his cloak as his thoughts churned quietly. He wanted to argue, to push back against her words. But deep down, a part of him wondered if she was right. How long could he keep wandering, anyway? How long could he run from the thought of belonging somewhere—of staying long enough to make a difference?

Claire turned back to the valley, folding her arms as she watched the workers below. "The offer still stands," she said simply. "Come to the keep. See the barony for yourself. If you still want to leave after that, I won't stop you."

Kageno remained silent, his gaze following hers as he studied the fields again. The rows of crops stretched far into the horizon, the people working with a quiet unity he hadn't seen in a long time. It was… grounding, somehow. Like the land itself refused to give in to hardship, pushing forward with quiet determination.

Finally, he let out a slow breath, a faint, resigned smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You're persistent. I'll give you that."

Claire glanced at him, her own lips curving into the smallest of smiles. "I don't make empty offers, Kageno. Think about it."

The wind stirred again, carrying with it the faint scent of earth and growing things. Kageno didn't answer right away, his thoughts still lingering on her words. But as he stood there, on the hilltop beside Claire, watching the people work the land they called home, he couldn't deny the faint pull in his chest.

Maybe I will think about it.

Claire stood tall and unwavering, her presence as steady as ever, while Kageno remained at her side, caught between the pull of the road and the quiet promise of something more.

The wind carried the faint scent of tilled earth and vineyards as the sun began to dip behind the distant hills, stretching long golden shadows across the valley. Kageno stood quietly beside Claire on the hilltop, his gaze fixed on the workers below. The quiet hum of life—the steady rhythm of a people working toward something greater—filled the air, grounding him in ways he hadn't expected.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Claire seemed content to let him process, her ruby eyes watching the horizon with the patience of someone who knew when to let silence do the work.

Finally, she turned to him, breaking the quiet. "I'll take you to an inn just outside my father's lands. It's a good place to rest for the night, and the food's decent enough."

Kageno blinked, glancing her way with a faint frown. "You're offering me a ride?"

Claire smirked faintly, as if the question amused her. "What's wrong? You're not afraid of horses, are you?"

"I prefer walking," Kageno replied flatly, though there was no real bite in his words.

Claire shook her head with a small laugh, already turning back toward the path where her horse waited—a sleek, dark brown mare tethered near a cluster of low bushes. "You've walked enough for one lifetime, Kageno. And if you're planning on seeing the barony tomorrow, you'll need a good meal and a proper night's sleep."

Kageno hesitated, his eyes drifting between Claire and the horse. He wasn't particularly keen on being a passenger—especially not perched awkwardly behind someone who looked far too pleased with themselves—but the thought of an inn, a warm bed, and food that didn't come out of his pack was hard to ignore.

"Fine," he muttered, shouldering his pack as he stepped closer. "But don't blame me if your horse decides it doesn't like the extra weight."

Claire rolled her eyes, untying the reins and giving the mare a quick pat before swinging herself into the saddle with practiced ease. She looked down at him expectantly, holding out her hand.

"Come on. Stop grumbling and get up here."

Kageno stared at her hand for a moment, then sighed as if the whole ordeal was a personal affront.

"You're bossy, you know that?" he said as he took her hand and climbed up behind her. The horse shifted slightly under their combined weight, but Claire steadied it with an expert tug of the reins.

"It's called leadership," Claire replied, smirking as she glanced back at him. "You might want to take notes."

Kageno huffed, shifting slightly as he found his balance. He kept his hands to himself, gripping the edge of the saddle instead of holding onto her cloak like he probably should have. The ride was smoother than he expected as Claire guided the horse down the hill and onto the narrow dirt road that wound through the valley.

The world around them softened as twilight settled in, the last traces of sunlight clinging to the sky. The farms and vineyards they passed seemed peaceful, their rows of crops casting faint shadows against the earth. Lanterns flickered to life in the distance, their warm glow marking farmhouses and small outposts where workers had gathered after a long day's labor.

Kageno found his eyes drifting toward the horizon, where a faint silhouette of a town came into view. "That's where the inn is?"

"Just ahead," Claire confirmed, her voice calm. "It's a small stop for traders and travelers. Quiet, but comfortable. I'll pick you up in the morning and take you to the estate."

"You sound awfully sure I'm going," Kageno muttered, though there was no real protest in his voice.

Claire didn't turn to look at him, but he could hear the smile in her words. "I am."

The road stretched out ahead of them, lit faintly by the rising moon. Kageno leaned back slightly, letting the gentle rhythm of the horse's movement lull him into a rare sense of ease. He didn't know what tomorrow would bring or why Claire insisted on involving him in her plans, but for now, he let himself settle into the moment—just a quiet ride through a peaceful valley under the darkening sky.

As the horse's steady hoofbeats carried them forward, his wanderlust chapter ended with the promise of tomorrow—a new road, a new place, and a growing sense that this path might lead to something Kageno hadn't yet allowed himself to hope for.

~!~

Author's Note: Ok, I'm actually apologizing here!

I had two outlines of the previous chapter 9.5 in my documents folder, with a word apart to tell the difference.

Fat load that helped me and I ended up uploading an unpolished version of it.

So I took a look at the actual chapter…

And I didn't like it.

So! From the ground up, I decided to write a new tale for Kageno. One that takes him through several areas of lands, towns and even the sea, both tree and saltwater both!

Hope you enjoy!

Signing off!

Terra ace