A first meeting among the pages

In late autumn, the morning frost in Wushan Town grew heavier by the day.

Loa had something new to look forward to in his life-whenever Old Jack had something to send to Baruch Mansion, he would silently count the days. Sometimes he even wished the farming tools would break a little sooner, so he could visit that rose-covered corridor and see those books again.

On his third visit, he found Grandpa Hiri scolding a young servant.

"...How many times have I told you? Things on the wooden racks in the storeroom must be arranged in order. Tools on the left, odds and ends on the right. Look at this-the hoes and brooms are piled together. What kind of mess is this?"

The young servant kept his head down, not daring to make a sound.

Hiri's voice was not loud, but every word struck the heart like a little hammer. The old man was usually gentle, but when it came to his duties as housekeeper, he was almost harsh in his exacting standards.

Loa stood at the entrance to the corridor, hesitating over whether to approach. Hiri spotted him first, waved the servant away, and softened his expression.

"You're here?" Hiri walked over and glanced at the small farming tools in Loa's arms-this time, there were only two garden trowels and a small rake. Old Jack had fixed them in passing and charged nothing.

"Yes. Grandpa Jack said these little things are a gift for the household, to thank you for... looking after me last time." Loa stumbled over the words a little. Old Jack had taught him what to say, but it still felt awkward saying it aloud.

Hiri understood nonetheless. A faint smile appeared on the old man's face as he accepted the tools. "Old Jack hasn't changed. All right, I'll take them. You..." He paused. "Which book would you like to read today?"

Loa's eyes lit up. "Can I choose for myself?"

"Anything on the shelves," Hiri said. "But don't touch the ones with red labels. Those belong to the Baruch Clan's collection. Outsiders aren't allowed to read them."

Loa nodded vigorously. He walked over to the shelves and, sure enough, saw small red paper labels on the spines of several books. Avoiding those, he chose Basic Herb Identification, which he had not finished last time.

Further into the book were many more useful herbs: ones that stopped bleeding, relieved pain, neutralized poison, sharpened the mind...

As he read, an idea suddenly occurred to Loa.

He closed the book and approached Hiri. The old man was sitting in a wicker chair, reading a letter by the morning light, with reading glasses perched on his nose.

"Grandpa Hiri," Loa began quietly, "can I... ask you something?"

Hiri looked up and set down the letter. "Go ahead."

"These herbs..." Loa pointed toward the shelves. "Can you find them... around Wushan Town?"

Hiri was silent for a moment. He took off his reading glasses, wiped the lenses with a soft cloth, and put them back on before speaking slowly. "Some of them. Purpleheart grass grows beside the stream on the shaded side of the mountain behind town. Wound-healing grass can be gathered in autumn along the edge of the woods south of town. Frostflower... that one's rare. You'd have to go deeper into the mountains."

Loa listened carefully, committing every location to memory.

"But," Hiri's tone shifted, "gathering herbs isn't as simple as you think. First, you have to be able to tell them apart. Many herbs look alike, but their medicinal properties are worlds apart, and some are poisonous. Second, you need to know when to gather them. Some must be picked at dawn with dew still on them, others at noon when the sun is strongest, and some can only be gathered in autumn. Third..."

He paused and looked at Loa. "There are magical beasts in the mountains. The places where herbs grow are often places where magical beasts roam."

Loa pressed his lips together. He remembered the fangs and claws in the illustrated guide, and the labels marking their "danger levels."

"I know," he said. "But... I want to try."

"Try what?"

"See if I can gather some herbs." Loa's voice grew quieter. "Grandpa Jack is getting old, and sometimes his back and legs hurt. If I could gather some herbs..."

He did not finish, but Hiri understood.

The old man studied the child before him. Only six years old, yet there was a stubbornness in his eyes far beyond his age. It was not willfulness, but the kind of stubbornness that made him see something through once he had set his mind to it.

Just like Old Jack all those years ago.

Hiri remembered that young blacksmith's apprentice, who could stand beside the forge for a whole day and night to make a good sword, neither eating nor sleeping until he had hammered the iron into a pattern that satisfied him.

"The stream behind the mountain," Hiri finally said, his voice very soft. "Head east from town, through the birch woods, and you'll find a small stream. Purpleheart grass grows in the damp, shaded spots along its banks. It's late autumn now, so the leaves should have turned purple. Easy to recognize."

Loa's eyes lit up.

"But remember three things." Hiri's tone grew stern. "First, only gather around the outskirts. Don't go any deeper. Second, go in the morning and come back when the sun comes out. Third, take this."

He took a small leather pouch from inside his clothes and handed it to Loa. The pouch was old but well kept. Loa opened it to find a small packet of white powder and a knife as long as his palm. The blade was thin and sharp, and the handle was wrapped in hemp cord for a secure grip.

"Lime powder. If you run into a wild beast, throw it out. It can hold it off for a moment," Hiri said. "The knife is for gathering herbs, not fighting. Remember that?"

"I will." Loa clutched the leather pouch tightly. "Thank you, Grandpa Hiri."

"Don't thank me." Hiri waved a hand. "If anything happens to you, Old Jack will come after me with his life on the line."

Loa smiled. It was the first time Hiri had said something so warm and personal.

He carefully put away the leather pouch and returned to the shelves to keep reading. This time, he chose A Brief History of the Yulan Continent (Commoner Edition).

The book was thick, recording several thousand years of the continent's history. It covered everything from the ancient age of myths to the legends of the Four Ultimate Warriors, the founding of the Holy Union, and the current state of affairs. The writing was dry, but Loa read with great interest.

As he was reading, footsteps sounded outside the corridor.

Light, quick footsteps belonging to a child.

Loa looked up and saw a little brown-haired boy run into the corridor. The boy was about three or four, dressed in a soft, pale-blue formal outfit, his brown hair neatly combed. His large eyes shone with intelligence and curiosity.

The boy paused in surprise when he saw Loa and stopped. He blinked, his gaze lingering briefly on Loa-on his old clothes, washed pale-before quickly shifting to Hiri.

"Grandpa Hiri!" The boy ran over, his voice clear and bright. "Father sent me to ask if the guest list for this afternoon is ready."

A gentle smile appeared on Hiri's face, making him seem like an entirely different person from the man who had scolded the servant earlier. He patted the boy's head. "It's ready, young master. I'll bring it to the study shortly."

"All right." The boy nodded, then turned to look curiously at Loa. "Who is he?"

"He's the child from Old Jack's household at the smithy. His name is Loa," Hiri introduced him. "He came to deliver the repaired tools."

The boy-Linley Baruch-walked up to Loa and tilted his little face up to study him. His eyes were clear, holding none of a noble's arrogance, only pure curiosity.

"What book are you reading?" Linley asked.

Loa closed the book to show its cover. "A Brief History of the Yulan Continent."

"Is it good?"

"It's all right." Loa thought for a moment. "It talks about lots of things from the past."

"Like what?"

"Like... the Four Ultimate Warriors," Loa said. "The Dragonblood Warrior, the Violet Flame Warrior, the Tiger-Striped Warrior, and the Undying Warrior."

Linley's eyes lit up. "You like those too?"

Linley seemed to have found a kindred spirit, holding on to Loa as he asked one question after another. He asked what else the book said and which of the four warriors was the strongest.

Loa answered each question, answering what he could and honestly admitting when he did not know. Hiri watched quietly from the side without interrupting.

After they had chatted for a while, Linley was called away-his etiquette teacher had come to give him a lesson. The boy said a reluctant goodbye, and before running out of the corridor, he looked back and called, "Let's talk again next time you come!"

The corridor fell quiet again.

Watching Linley's figure disappear into the distance, Loa felt something strange. So this was Linley Baruch. The protagonist of the original story, the future Dragonblood Warrior, the savior of the plane.

But right now, he was only a child full of curiosity about stories and legends.

"The young master loves listening to stories," Hiri suddenly said, breaking into Loa's thoughts. "The master is usually busy, and the lady passed away early. He spends much of his time alone."

Loa nodded without speaking.

"You spoke very well today." Hiri looked at him. "Neither servile nor overbearing. When you knew, you knew; when you didn't, you said so. That's very good."

Loa did not quite understand what there was to praise about that, but he still said, "Thank you."

By the time he left Baruch Mansion that day, the sun was already high. Loa carried the little leather pouch inside his clothes, his mind filled with the herbal knowledge he had just read and his brief conversation with Linley.

On the way home, he seriously considered a question for the first time: What kind of person did he want to become in this world?

A warrior? Maybe. But I have no bloodline, and I don't know what my magical talent is like. All I have is a reasonably healthy body and some understanding of "technique" carried over from my previous life.

A scholar? Impossible. Books are a privilege of the nobility. Being able to read these is already an incredible stroke of luck.

Then...

An herb gatherer? A blacksmith? Or... I wonder how my drawing skills would measure up in this world, in this era?

At that thought, he shook his head, casting aside those distractions. It was too early to think about such things. His most pressing task was to strengthen his body, hone his skills, and then... then see whether he could gather those herbs.

If he could, perhaps he could help ease the pain in Old Jack's back and legs.

If he could, perhaps he could exchange them for some money, buy some meat, and improve their meals.

He raised his head and looked east. Through the birch woods, there was a small stream. Purpleheart grass grew in the damp, shaded spots along its banks.

The leaves should have turned purple. Easy to recognize.

Loa quickened his pace.

Suddenly, he very much wanted to go and have a look the very next day.