Overnight Stay

The group followed the uncle carrying a hoe into the village.

The village is small, with houses scattered along a main road. Most of them are made of wood and stone, with thick thatched roofs. As evening approaches, wisps of smoke rise from several chimneys.

At the end of the main road, a few people were gathered in front of a house that was slightly larger than the surrounding houses.

A middle-aged villager with round glasses and a plump figure was leading a little girl of about seven or eight years old with pigtails, talking to an old man dressed in a simple black robe. The old man had his back to them, so only his shiny bald head and snow-white sideburns peeking out from under his hat brim could be seen.

The plump villager rubbed his hands together, his voice full of gratitude.

"Village Chief, thank you so much. Thanks to the medicine you gave my daughter, her fever has gone down."

The old man, referred to as the Village Chief, turned around.

He was very old, but his eyes were bright. His eyebrows and beard were white and neatly trimmed. His head was bald, and the hair on his head gleamed with a warm sheen in the fading light.

"It's nothing," the Village Chief said, his voice hoarse but steady, with the unhurried tone characteristic of an old man. "For an old man like me, with one foot in the grave, there's no point in storing so much medicine."

Beside him, an old woman gently patted his arm, her tone carrying a casual, teasing tone.

"Putting everything else aside, this old man's hair growth medicine is enough to last him a lifetime."

The Village Chief touched his shiny bald head and laughed heartily.

"How could you say that about me? You're so talkative!"

Just then, a little boy of about five or six years old ran over from the side, grabbed the Village Chief's leg, looked up at him with bright, sparkling eyes.

"Village Chief Radaal! Teach me how to fish!"

The Village Chief bent down and gently patted the boy's head with his thin but steady hand.

"Okay, then we'll wait a bit..."

"Village Chief!"

The uncle who was leading the way raised his voice, guiding Lowell and the others closer.

"These are adventurers who would like to stay the night."

The Village Chief remained bent over, didn't turn his head, and naturally continued the conversation.

"Welcome... It's been a long time since any adventurers have visited our village..."

He straightened up and turned his head as he spoke.

He stopped talking at the end.

His gaze fell on Lowell's face, then quickly swept over Frieren, Himmel, Fern, Ruby, Methode, and Liletta. His bright eyes lingered on each of them for a fleeting moment.

His expression didn't change much, and the curve of his smile remained the same, but there was a very brief, almost confirming, pause.

It's so short, almost impossible to catch.

"... You're here."

He continued what he had just said, his tone returning to normal, as if he had only paused slightly midway through.

The little boy next to him tugged at his clothes.

"... Village Chief Radaal?"

The Village Chief squatted down again, looked the boy in the eye, and patted his head.

"It's alright. You guys go play for a while, wait for me." He pointed to the other end of the village, "Remember, don't go to the lake without an adult."

The boy nodded vigorously, let go of her hand, and ran away.

The Village Chief stood up, faced Lowell and the others, and extended his right hand. His palm was large, his knuckles were thick, and his skin was rough and dark from years of labor, covered with small old scars.

"Welcome to our village. I am Radaal, the Village Chief." His voice was steady, with the gentle warmth that comes with age and experience. "The village is small and doesn't have much, but I hope you all have a pleasant night."

Lowell reached out and grasped the Village Chief's hand. His palm was warm and dry, and his grip was light but steady.

"Okay, thank you."

"There are no inns in the village," the Village Chief said, withdrawing his hand and pointing to the west side of the village, where a corner of a gray stone roof could be seen peeking out from among the trees. "But not far outside the village, there is an empty house, my family's old house. If you don't mind, you are welcome to use it."

"Good."

The little boy who had run away hadn't gone far. He hid behind a nearby house, peeking out with half his head and curiously looking this way. His gaze lingered on the sword at Himmel's waist for a moment, then turned to Himmel's face, blinking his eyes.

He mustered his courage and took a small step forward.

"... Wow, you guys are adventurers!"

He stared at Himmel, his voice filled with the excitement typical of a child.

"Are you a warrior? Like in the stories, wielding a very powerful sword?"

Himmel turned to look at the boy, her usual smile on her face.

"No... but it's close enough." He straightened his back and gestured with his finger in the air. "I guess so."

The boy's eyes shone even brighter.

"Then you must have a killer move, right? The super powerful kind! You can defeat a giant monster in a flash!"

Himmel's smile widened even more. He brushed a strand of blue hair from his forehead and slightly raised his chin.

"Of course!"

He bent down, leaned closer to the boy, lowered his voice, and pretended to share a secret, but his voice was loud enough for everyone around to hear.

Want to see? My special move is super powerful!

He straightened up and patted his chest.

"Tonight I'll tell you my adventure story! I guarantee it'll be more exciting than any bard's!"

The boy cheered, turned and ran, shouting as he went.

"I'll go call everyone! There's a story to hear tonight at Chief Radaal 'Village Chief house!"

The Village Chief watched the boy run off into the distance, smiled, and said nothing, only gesturing for Lowell and the others to proceed.

"Gentlemen, this way. Let me show you around the house first, and then we can have a simple meal at my humble abode."

The old house was on the edge of the village, backed by a small grove of trees, with a cultivated vegetable garden in front. The house was made of stone, not large, but very sturdy. The interior was clean, with simple furniture, and a fire had already been lit in the fireplace.

"No one has lived here for a long time, so it's a bit simple, but it's enough to keep out the wind and rain," the Village Chief said.

"That's good, thank you." Lowell looked around and nodded.

After settling in, the group went to the Village Chief's house for a meal.

The Village Chief's wife had already prepared a meal: stew, roasted potatoes, bread, homemade cured meat, and a large pot of steaming wild vegetable soup. It wasn't a lavish meal, but the portions were generous and the food was piping hot.

The dining table was set up in the small main room of the Village Chief's house. Hearing that an adventurer was going to tell stories, many villagers brought their children and crowded around the door and windows, making the house and surrounding area packed with people. The children's eyes shone brightly in the light of the oil lamp.

Himmel and Ruby became the absolute main characters.

Himmel recounted how he began his adventures at sixteen, how he "used his wisdom and good looks" to persuade his companions, and how he "defeated powerful monsters with exquisite swordsmanship at the last minute." Ruby chimed in, occasionally gesturing wildly as if she wanted to burst through the ceiling of the small house.

They spoke in unison, their stories a mix of truth and fiction, yet they told them with vivid detail.

Frieren ate her stew quietly, occasionally glancing up at the calm green eyes of Simmel, who was talking animatedly, and Himmel, who was Ruby wildly, before lowering her head again to focus on the potatoes in her bowl.

Lowell leaned against the wall, holding half a loaf of bread in his hand, chewing slowly. His dark eyes reflected the light and shadow in the flickering lamplight, his gaze occasionally sweeping over the Village Chief, who sat in the main seat, a gentle smile always on his face.

Fern sipped her soup, her pale purple eyes quietly observing the reactions of the surrounding villagers. Methode rested her hands on her knees, her face bearing that flawless, gentle smile. Liletta stood in a slightly darker corner, her golden eyes reflecting the firelight, her expression unchanging.

The children exclaimed in surprise or laughed from time to time, and the adults laughed along, asking questions, creating a lively atmosphere in the main room.

Night deepened.

The villagers gradually dispersed, and the children, hand in hand with their parents, went home, excitedly discussing the plot of the story as they walked.

The voices faded away, and the main room fell silent, with only the faint crackling of the oil lamp wick Burning.

The Village Chief's wife began clearing away the dishes. She glanced at her husband, who sat at the table, holding a glass of water that had long since gone cold, gazing at the night outside the door.

"Radaal," she said softly, "The adventurers' stories are very interesting. Why haven't you been listening much? You've been busy running around the whole time."

As if snapping out of his daze, Village Chief Radaal put down his cup, the bottom of which made a soft "click" as it hit the wooden tabletop.

"I'd like to hear it too," he said, his voice lower than before, with a tired smile, "But whenever something happens in the village, everyone's used to coming to me, the Village Chief... It keeps me so busy!"

The wife picked up a rag and began wiping the table.

This shows that everyone relies on you and respects you.

The Village Chief remained silent for a moment.

The light from the oil lamp cast flickering shadows on his face.

"... Really?" he said slowly, his tone somewhat detached. "I've gotten old too. Before I knew it, I'd become the Village Chief."

The wife paused in wiping the table. She looked up at her husband, her gaze filled with a gentle understanding that had been cultivated over the years.

"Hehe..." she chuckled softly, "When you first came to the village, you were the youngest one there."

The Village Chief smiled, but the smile was brief and somewhat blurry.

"You were the first person to lend me a hand," he said, gazing into the distance as if looking at something very far away. "I still remember the sandwich you made for me... it looked awful."

The wife put the rag aside and wiped her hands on her apron.

"I'm so sorry," she said frankly, "It just looked terrible. I wasn't very good at cooking back then."

"But it's really delicious," the Village Chief added softly, "The best thing I've ever eaten."

His wife watched him quietly.

The light from the oil lamp cast a soft, warm glow on her graying hair. She looked at him for a moment before speaking, her voice even gentler than before, carrying a hint of barely perceptible inquiry.

"What's wrong with you today? You've never said anything like that before."

"Has... something happened?"

The Village Chief's hand, resting on his knees, twitched slightly at a few fingers before relaxing again.

He raised his eyes and looked at his wife. In the dim light, his eyes were still bright, but there was something deeper and heavier in them, flowing slowly before quickly receding into the calm that had settled in his eyes over the years.

"... It's nothing," he said, his voice returning to its usual calm, even carrying a hint of relaxed laughter. "I just suddenly remembered that I still have some work to finish."

He supported himself on his knees and slowly stood up. His movements were somewhat slow, but very steady.

I'll be right back.

The door hinges creaked slightly as they slowly closed.

A night breeze slipped in through the crack in the door, stirring the flame of the oil lamp. The light and shadow flickered on the wall a few times before settling back down.

The main room was completely silent.

The only sounds were the occasional crackling of embers in the fireplace and the distant, indistinct chirping of insects outside the window.