Leaving

A few days later, the old village chief asked him, "Lord Allen, are you really leaving? If possible, I truly wish you could stay." Allen had fully experienced the villagers' hospitality over the past few days. Though they had little to offer him, they had already brought out their best.

After these few days, Allen told the old village chief that he had to leave. Both the chief and the villagers were deeply reluctant to see him go. He immediately explained to them, "I know you don't want me to leave, but I really must. You know I'm not some noble knight. At most, I'm half a mage. I have to go to Dalaran to study. That's my dream."

The old village chief sighed. "Very well, my lord. Then could you tell me when you plan to leave? That way, the villagers and I can give you a proper send-off."

"I plan to go to Morien Castle first, then head on to Kaldz War Fortress. I'll probably set out tomorrow," Allen told the old village chief. As soon as the chief heard that Allen was going to Morien, he said, "You're going to Morien too, my lord? Wonderful! We're planning to go there to buy supplies as well. You wouldn't mind traveling with us, would you?" The village really did need to buy supplies from outside. At the very least, they needed to buy this month's grain, or people in the village would starve to death.

Of course Allen did not mind. After all, another person meant a little more safety. He immediately agreed on a departure time for the next day with the old village chief. Once it was settled, the chief went to inform the villagers. Ten people would be going to Morien this time. They were all villagers who had bought supplies for the village in previous years, knew the quickest way to Morien, and were quite familiar with the place.

The next morning, Allen rose early and began packing, only to discover that the villagers had already been waiting for him at the village entrance since early morning. They had also brought a cartload of things. Puzzled, Allen went over to ask about it, and the villagers replied, "My lord, have you forgotten? These are all your spoils from defeating the bandits."

Confused, Allen went over and lifted the covering cloth, then understood at once. How had he forgotten the equipment those bandits had been wearing? Though most of it was junk, at least the leaders' equipment was decent and should fetch some money.

After learning what was going on, Allen asked the villagers, "Are you taking these things to Morien to sell?" A villager immediately answered in alarm, "Please don't misunderstand, my lord. We weren't planning to take your spoils for ourselves. We only intended to help transport them to Morien for you. As for what you do with them, we'll follow your wishes."

Allen had not meant to blame them at all. He had never intended to keep these things in the first place. He asked the villagers, "Won't bringing all this along be too much trouble?" "My lord, we're only going to Morien. It won't be too much trouble."

Seeing that they still intended to help him sell this junk, Allen stopped objecting. A little while later, the old village chief arrived with the village's women and children. The chief repeatedly cautioned the ten villagers going to Morien and told them to obey Allen's orders. When it was nearly time to leave, he said goodbye to Allen and saw them out of the village.

Allen and the villagers spent the entire morning on the road. Since there were no waystations or places to rest nearby, they had to reach another village called Willowwood Village before sunset, or they would have to camp in the wilderness. No one wanted to camp out in the wild, Allen included.

Along the way, Allen kept asking the villagers about Morien Castle. According to their descriptions, Morien Castle was Viscount Morien's domain, and the Morien Family had ruled it for generations.

But Morien could not really be called a large city. More precisely, it was a small town. Though the Morien Family had devoted themselves to developing their domain over the years, the family had risen through military merit and war, and the entire family seemed to lack any talent for developing their territory. Thus, after all these years, Morien Castle remained a castle rather than growing into a city.

Moreover, Morien Castle had now been inherited by the family's head, Alex Morien. Alex was a warmonger. Unlike his father, he had little interest in developing his domain. Apparently, he was about to expand his army again and had offered a great deal of money to commoners willing to enlist. It was hard to say where he got so much money. His family's territory alone was far from enough to cover the cost of maintaining those troops.

Allen had no interest in this militaristic noble. He only wanted to know how to get to Kaldz War Fortress once he arrived. That place was on the national border. Ordinary people could not enter the war fortress; even lingering nearby could get them arrested as spies.

Unless they could obtain travel papers. Getting them could be difficult or easy. They were mainly controlled by the nobles along the borders, and Alex surely had them too. But after hearing the villagers' descriptions, Allen felt that Alex would not be easy to deal with. He decided to see whether he could get hold of some once he arrived.

Before long, Allen and the villagers finally reached Willowwood Village just before sunset. Its village chief was already very familiar with them. Every year, people from their village went to Morien Castle to buy supplies, passing through Willowwood Village along the way, so the villagers were quite welcoming when they arrived.

After Allen and the others reached Willowwood Village, the chief arranged rooms for them. He had originally intended to put them up where they had stayed before, but when the ten villagers told him Allen was a mage, his attitude changed completely, and he became exceptionally respectful toward Allen.

"Honored mage, we're delighted that you would grace our village with your presence. We will entertain you warmly, so please don't refuse." After speaking, the chief of Willowwood Village instructed the villagers under him to make preparations, while he took Allen to his own home, the most comfortable place in the entire village.

Seeing how warmly the villagers of Willowwood Village treated him, Allen felt too embarrassed to reveal that he was not yet a mage. Still, it made no difference whether he said it or not. To them, anyone who could cast magic was a mage.

After helping Allen settle into his lodgings, the chief led him to the villagers' welcoming feast. By the time Allen reached his seat, the ten villagers traveling with him to Morien had already begun boasting to the villagers of Willowwood Village. "Those scumbags had tied us all up, and Lord Allen killed eighty bandits all by himself! And that wasn't even the half of it. Lord Allen killed their leaders too. With his wondrous magic, he killed every last one of them, one after another. Those bandit leaders were hideously ugly, every one of them, with mouths as wide as this bowl and eyes more frightening than narrow, triangular eyes. One glare could kill a man! Even so, his lordship killed them. In a single instant, his magic tore them all to pieces..."

Allen listened as the villagers praised him to the skies. In truth, only he knew how much luck had gone into that victory. If the enemy had known even a little about him, and the bandit leader had fought him calmly, he probably would not have been able to win. Still, he would not expose the villagers' exaggerations. After all, however much they embellished it, the outcome remained the same: he had killed those bandits and saved the villagers.

Watching the villagers boast, Allen could not help reflecting that seemingly every person from Lordaeron he knew possessed this skill. Wherever he went, someone would be telling tall tales. Still, he was not surprised. These lower-class people were not nobles. Faced with the hardships and struggles of daily life, they had to find some way to entertain themselves and make life seem less miserable.

Happy times always passed quickly. After the feast ended, he returned to his room and was about to go to bed when he suddenly noticed a little boy hiding outside the window. Curious, he went over to take a look. Realizing he had been discovered, the boy became very embarrassed and tried to run away at once, but Allen caught him. Allen asked, "Who are you? Why are you standing outside?"

The boy said somewhat fearfully, "My name is Patch. The village chief here is my father."

Allen looked at him, patted his head, and reassured him, "Don't be afraid. I'm your father's guest." "I know. You're a mage, right?" The little boy kept his head lowered, not daring to look at him.

"Not quite," Allen told him. "But everyone says you defeated hundreds of bandits. You're amazing! Can you teach me magic? If I could be half as good as you-no, no, no, just a tiny bit as good would be enough." The boy raised his head then and looked at him with bright, shining eyes.

It reminded Allen of how he had looked at Old Jack with those same eyes a few years earlier. He sighed and told the little boy, "I'm sorry. I haven't even learned magic properly myself. How could I teach you?"

The little boy lowered his head again in disappointment. Allen did not know how to comfort him, so he diverted his attention. "Don't be sad. Magic isn't something you can learn right away. Learning magic takes a lifetime. Here, take this. I think you'll like it." Allen gave the boy the dagger he had found on one of the bandits. "Remember, you must never point this at family or friends, but you can use it to protect yourself." With that, Allen patted his little head.

The little boy's attention was immediately captured by the dagger. Perhaps, to him, a dagger was far more appealing than something as intangible as magic.

After taking the little boy back to the village chief, Allen went straight to his room to sleep. The next day, Allen and the villagers said their farewells, then set off.