Nero scanned the room one last time, double-checking for anything he missed.
On the bed lay his unzipped bag, neatly packed with folded clothes, essentials, and a few pieces of hunting equipment, and on the floor rested his melee spear, its sharp tip carefully wrapped in white cloth, alongside his polished hunting boots. He'd decided against bringing potion-making tools, believing Rafaella would have everything he'd need.
As he zipped the bag, the familiar sound of Granny's footsteps echoed from the doorway.
"Done yet?"
"All set," Nero replied, slinging the bag over his shoulder and scooping up the items from the floor.
"They've been waiting for a while now. What took you so long to get ready?" Granny stopped her complaints midway and her sharp eyes swept over him as he turned around. A frown slowly crawled on her face and she continued with it drenched in her voice, "And you look like you didn't sleep a wink last night."
Nero shrugged, brushing past her questions. Instead, he gestured to the satchel in her hands. "What's in there?"
Granny's lips pressed into a thin line, clearly annoyed at the diversion. "Take it. It's for the trading caravan. Buy what you need when you arrive and don't hold back. If you run out, tell Alvin, I'll send more through him. But make sure it's practical, not some foolish nonsense."
Nero accepted the satchel and slung it over his free shoulder, noting its weight. He could tell it was more than just coins, and the timing of her gesture hinted that there was more than just money inside. Knowing she wasn't one for direct sentiment and this was her way of giving something meaningful without saying it outright, he didn't bother inspecting it.
"Don't forget Jacob's recommendation," Nero reminded her as he headed toward the door.
"How many times are you going to parrot that?" she muttered, rolling her eyes.
"Guess why I'm doing it?" Nero grinned as he fastened his footwear. "Here's a hint. One of us has white hair and needs a cane."
"I am not that old, you brat," she scowled as he stepped toward the exit.
Nero suddenly paused at the doorstep, his tone shifting into seriousness. "Granny, will you move to the city when I attend the academy?"
She raised a brow. "Brat, do you still want me to cook and wash your undies when you're an adult? Fine. I'm old, very old. Happy now?"
"That's not what I meant, you fossil!" Nero shot back. Then, continued quieter, "I mean it. You're getting older, and I just... I want to know you're safe. You don't have to live with me. Just consider moving to a temple in the city I'm in."
"We've got an entire year before that," Granny initially waved him off, but seeing his unhappy face with the answer, she continued with a sigh. "Fine. When the time comes, I'll write to the higher-ups and request a transfer near where you end up. Will that ease your worry?"
That was enough for Nero to give a satisfied nod. As he turned to leave, Granny caught his hand.
Her frail wrinkled hands trembled slightly as they held his, and her eyes solemnly pierced into his.
"Nero," she said, her voice firm, "I raised you to walk the path of light and ultimately lead as an ideal for others. No matter how many times you stray—"
"Choose the light," Nero cut her off with a playful grin, finishing the sentence for her.
"I get it alright. I've heard it a thousand times already. Sigh, my poor granny, it seems age is really getting to her and now she sounds like a broken record," he said in a playful tone while teasingly patting her white hair in mock sadness.
Watching his antics, Granny's sternness melted into a warm smile. Shaking off his hand, she continued with her voice softened, but losing none of its power. "When birds grow, their mothers push them out of the nest. Not because they hate them, but because they know their world isn't the tiny nest they've known, it's the endless sky. Agroville is your nest, Nero, but it's not your world."
Her words stirred something deep within him. In her eyes, he saw affection and an unwavering belief in who he could become.
"Hehe, look at you, giving me a motivational speech. I'm going to Crafts Wood, not the ends of the world. Even if I were, I'd return occasionally to visit my antique granny."
She ignored his teasing, her tone growing resolute. "'Brat, sometimes you've gotta start at the bottom knee-deep in crap before you can climb to the top. It builds character. Don't give up or crawl back to this tiny nest when things get hard. Every setback will only serve as fuel for your flight. I know it because my boy will soar above the clouds. Now stop standing there with all that weight and load the wagon. Get moving."
Nero nodded, carrying his belongings to the covered wagon waiting outside. He carefully stowed them before settling onto the wooden floor inside. From there, he watched Granny exchange farewells with Rafaella.
With a crack of the whip, Alvin announced their departure. Rafaella muttered hurried goodbyes before climbing into the back with Nero. Though there was room up front beside her husband, she chose to sit at the wagon's edge, blocking his view of Granny waving.
Nero opened his mouth to complain but hesitated, eyeing the glamorous beauty. So he ended up begrudgingly settling for a view over her shoulder.
As the wagon rushed along the field at early dawn, Nero took in Agroville one last time. The fields cloaked in the soft gold of yield for the past months stood bare after harvest, waiting for the farmer's next plow.
A new field. A new beginning.
When the wagon finally left the thicket of the Thawnkardians, Nero leaned back against the hard wooden floor.
The gentle rocking motion of the wagon picking up speed sent him into a drowsy state. The rhythmic creak of the wheels blended with the rustling leaves, felt like a strangely soothing melody for him. Exhaustion from last night's intense plowing finally caught up to him, and he stopped fighting against the drowsiness, succumbing to a cozy sleep.
The world outside blurred into streaks of green, and brown as the wagon trundled along the forest road.
A sudden jolt snapped Nero awake. His body jerked forward as he grabbed the wagon's edge for balance. "What was that?" he asked groggily, rubbing his eyes.
"The road's rougher from here," Alvin's voice called out. Nero spotted him walking beside the wagon, guiding the massive Taurus by gently pulling the strap around its neck. "Nothing too serious, just bumpy."
Trailing behind the wagon, Rafaella spoke with a thin smile and a calm demeanor, "It's past four now. Granny Orias said you didn't sleep last night, so I didn't wake you for lunch. There are fruits and your share in that bag. I'll make you a proper meal once we're home."
Realizing Alvin and Rafaella had chosen to walk to spare the Taurus from excess weight, Nero quickly dug into his bag. He washed his face with water from a leather bottle, the cold liquid refreshing against his skin and shaking off his sleepiness. Slinging the bottle back, he grabbed his food and jumped off the wagon to walk beside Rafaella.
"You didn't have to get down, Nero," she said gently, with a smile. "You could've eaten inside."
"I'm fine. Besides, I wanted to take a proper look at Crafts Wood." Nero replied, forcing a polite tone, and she nodded in response. He bit into a piece of bread, glancing around as they walked.
The wide road hugging the cliffside was enough for two wagons to travel comfortably. The route ahead wound up the mountain in a series of switchbacks, snaking upward like a coiled serpent. The incline was gentle enough for the wagon, but the design prioritized safety over speed.
Towering trees bordered the right side of the path, their roots intertwining the retaining walls. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the road with shifting patches of light and shade.
Strong ropes and pulley systems were attached to thick wooden retaining walls to help caravan workers manually haul and guide their wagons or secure mounts during their journey in these mountains. Some sections even had terraces serving as shelters.
Wooden guardrails lined the outer edge of the road to protect travelers from slipping off. Stepping near them, Nero glanced down below from the edge.
The dizzying drop sent a chill down his spine. He wasn't afraid of heights, yet the steep drop was enough to make even him shiver. The only thing he could make out at the bottom was the expanse of the sprawling forest stretching like a sea of green.
As he walked, Nero noticed rune scripts etched into the wooden guardrails at intervals. He paused to study one, observing its intricate carvings.
Glowstone runes, he murmured inwardly, recognizing the design. He continued inspecting the rune scripts from then on.
A simple series of rune scripts crafted to amplify the light of a glowstone and provide illumination for the road. One had to only place a glowstone at the center of the rune script and trigger it with mana. It will provide ambient light until the glowstone is consumed.
But not all the rune scripts here were the same. You could divide them based on the size of the rune script, how intense the lighting they produce, and the size of the glowstone required.
At brief intervals, smaller rune scripts were placed that would give out intense lighting, with even a shard of glowstone until they were fully consumed. While on long intervals, there were intricate and comparatively large rune scripts that required a sizable glowstone, which would give out dull lighting, but the difference was it came with a turnoff mechanism.
It was easy to figure out one was for regular use of the residents and the other for when the trading caravan came along. One was to barely ensure people didn't fall to the depths at night, while the other was to dazzle the traders that came to the village.
Either way, both should cost quite the sum. Having someone to run up and down the mountain to work these things and maintaining the rune script alongside providing the material for these should not come cheap. Maybe that's why there were some faded rune scripts or those missing a glowstone lacking in them.
The state of disrepair extended beyond these. Portions of the road showed signs of erosion, and a few terraces had broken under the strains of neglect.
"The Pedgai family set up most of these systems," Rafaella explained when she noticed Nero's lingering gaze. "For generations, they've held the village head position. Since their line of work is tied to the welfare of Crafts Wood, they've always worked to straighten things around here, even if it were all only to protect their interests."
Nero walked close to her to listen intently as she continued.
"Each successor inherited the projects of their predecessor, improving upon them or ensuring they run smoothly enough not to tarnish the family's legacy. And since they consistently performed well and maintained positive relationships with villagers, they became the temple's top choice for the position compared with other candidates. But…," Her voice turned sharp, her expression darkening. "Even the best tree has rotten seeds. The current village head is concerned with his rotten seed rather than taking care of Crafts Wood."
Nero raised an eyebrow. The edge in her tone piqued his curiosity, but he chose not to press further. Instead, his thoughts wandered to the Pedgai family.
He remembered the wine brewer mentioning yesterday they were supposedly the ones running the highly successful tavern business in Agroville for all these years. To reduce that proud brewer to a mere supplier and keep such a good business tightly under their belt, they should have a good amount of leverage both here and in Agroville, not to mention deep coffers to afford the stocks.
Generations of the top village positions held in a family until their words became synonymous with authority in Crafts Wood, causing them to gain pride and arrogance from their standing. Now, their children, spoiled by privilege, became conceited, throwing their weight around and harassing the innocent villagers.
Nero felt his line of thought was reducing an issue he didn't even fully know about, to some cliche villain family story, but honestly, he didn't care. As long as the situation was entertaining, he was happy. He would enjoy the drama from the sidelines, provided that none of these people came for his face during his time here. If they did, hehe, he was more than happy to play the role of a proper villain.
Wait, what if I stirred the pot alongside them? If I become a menace, the people here might throw me out of Crafts Wood, right? Then Granny will be forced to take me back to Agroville. I could plead innocence, saying I got caught up in bad company here, and swear to reform myself in Agroville.
Then I can enjoy Sharron until she moves out to the city.
Just imagining yesterday's events was enough to have sent tremors inside his pants, and the prospect of doing it all again brought a sly grin to his face.
Rafaella walking beside him, found his perverse smile, lost in thought, deeply unsettling, and asked in a weary tone.
"Something amusing you?" Rafaella's voice interrupted his musings, her wary tone snapping him back to reality.
Nero coughed, trying hard to stifle his lustful thoughts. "Just... thinking about how different this place is from Agroville."
Rafaella eyed him suspiciously but said nothing.
As they continued, the climb grew less steep, and the switchbacks straightened, allowing everyone to ride in the wagon without burdening the beast too much.
When the wagon finally left the thicket of Thawnkardian, Crafts Wood unveiled itself before his eyes. For the mountain draped in the evening dusk, the charming wooden village on the plateau shone as its hidden gem. Nero leaned toward the wagon's edge with curiosity, the rhythmic creak of the wheels slowing as Alvin guided the Taurus through the wide entrance.
"Crafts Wood," Nero read aloud, marveling at the intricately carved wooden sign at the entrance.
The village's wooden structures seemed to grow organically out of the landscape, blending seamlessly with the towering trees surrounding them. Buildings were constructed with polished wood, most of them he couldn't recognize. Intricately carved doors adorned with swirling patterns, elegantly curved wooden eaves extending from the roofline, and balconies with railings carved into depicting cute animals and flowers.
As the wagon glided through the village, he noted that the houses were built to see who could make them bigger and more artistic than another. Workshops were less elaborate, leaning more toward functionality over flair. Yet, they buzzed with energy, filled with workers hustling around like a swarm of bees. Most houses, however, appeared deserted, their doors tightly closed. He suspected the residents were either busy working in the shops or gathering with the trading caravan stationed nearby.
"They're probably in a last-minute rush to fulfill orders for the trading caravans or take care of small custom jobs before the caravan leaves," Rafaella explained, noticing his keen interest. "Families are likely spending time in the square where the caravans are set up."
And indeed, as the wagon skirted the heart of the village, he saw families walking toward the square. The covered wagon carefully navigated around groups trudging toward trading caravans as it moved forward. Unlike the open field in Agroville, the trading caravan was set up in the bustling square centered around a massive cassia tree with its vibrant golden flowers blooming in the air.
Even from afar, Nero could pick up the commotion of the lively crowd swarming the temporary market stalls and tents in the area. The lively chatter of vendors, the bright lights illuminating their goods, and the joy of people mingling seemed to soak the atmosphere. The scale and activity surpassed anything he had witnessed in Agroville.
As the wagon ventured deeper into the village, the scattered houses became sparse, giving way to a well-maintained stone path leading to a grand temple. They passed through a beautiful wooden temple arch with a carved depiction of Goddess Aphaia.
"The temple of Crafts Wood," Rafaella said, gesturing toward the sacred structure.
Nero admired the grand temple, which had multiple stunning wooden carvings of the Goddess engraved on it, and the sacred groves, which surrounded the temple building in serenity.
Their wagon veered onto a side route leading to the back side of the temple. Just fifty meters from the temple's main building, the wagon stopped before a two-story house near the temple grounds.
"Come on, we are home," she said, taking her bag in her left hand and getting off the wagon.
Nero hopped off the wagon, stretching his stiff limbs. The entire place seemed to be a giant piece of land under the temple with the closest civilian house near this place quite far away.
He watched Alvin appreciatively patting the Taurus's flank before separating the beast from the wagon and leading it toward what Nero judged as a cattle shed, a little further away from their lodgings.
"Come inside, Nero," Rafaella called, standing at the house's threshold. He stopped looking at the husband guiding the beast and walked towards the glamorous wife calling for him.