Morus and Chief Ata sat across from each other in the Chief’s office.

  Chief Ata behind his desk, Morus before it.

  Two cups of lukewarm tea on the table.

  Morus sat with one leg crossed over the other, backpack cushioning the chair, and sipped some of the tea as he was done analyzing the room.

  They’ve been sitting in silence for the past few minutes.

  Other than Jin’s brief entry into the room with a teapot and two teacups, the old village chief and the young former salesperson sat together in silence.

  Aside from the tea set on the desk, papers and scrolls were stacked one side, while several writing instruments sat on the opposite end of the desk.

  A calligraphy brush holder with several brushes hanging from it, one spot on the holder unoccupied, probably the one Morus still had in his room.

  An inkstone, with an ink stink resting beside it, firmly planted itself before the brush rack.

  Scroll shelves were placed against the walls of the office, hundreds upon hundreds of scrolls filled up the once empty shelves of this space.

  There was a smell that Morus reminisced. The smell of an old bookstore, the smell of an old library. The smell of herbs in an ancient study.

  Something was tickling the back of Morus’ mind.

  The Chief’s office was very clean, neat and tidy. Spacious too.

  It felt like the space behind him was deliberately kept unoccupied, but he had no idea what.

  Chief Ata smiled at the young man before him.

  He could guess what the young man was thinking.

  But he was careful. He cleaned the office and got rid of all traces of yesternight’s happenings.

  However, he was also in a predicament.

  It has been too long since the last time he wasn’t treated with much respect or reverence. A lifetime ago, in fact.

  The villagers here all knew him from years past, and were more family to him than colleagues before what happened twenty years ago.

  As his position and importance in the Kingdom rose, the distance between him and the common folk increased in proportion.

  Frankly, he had forgotten how to be ‘normal’.

  Morus looked up from his teacup, meeting Chief Ata’s gaze. The old man was smiling at him and seemed to want to say something, but had been silent for the past few minutes.

  He sighed internally.

  “Chief Ata. The tea is nice and thank you for inviting me to your office. However, I’m sure you didn’t call me in here just to enjoy tea in silence? Is there something I can do to help you or your village? Seeing as we’re going to leave in about a week?”

  Pulled out of his trance, Ata coughed and focused on the young man in front of him.

  “Ah yes! How was your morning? I’ve heard you met Herbalist Ren, as well as the mystic outside our walls?”

  “That’s true.” Morus squinted his eyes at the bald old man and smiled. “You have amazing talents here.”

  He thought about the magical greenhouse he had been in a few hours ago, home to various beautiful species native to this new planet, or so he assumed. Then the mysterious mystic and her fortune teller’s tent that dilated time.

  “Let me confess. I’ve never been a fan of self-proclaimed healers or doctors, because they were almost never capable of delivering on their promises. Meeting Herbalist Ren, it has been a mind opening experience. Thank you for allowing me that.”

  Chief Ata leaned onto his desk, “That’s great to hear!” His eyes flashed with intent. “Would you like to spend some time helping her harvest the herbs over the next few days?”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  The Chief gulped down his cup of tea, and poured himself some more, then refilled Morus’ cup.

  “Ya see, Russel, we each have our duties and there’s plenty to be done. You and your sister would be able to move around and help out, and we welcome the extra pair of hands.”

  Before Morus could say anything, Chief Ata held a finger up.

  “Before you make a decision. Know that you are free to decline and just wander around the village until we leave, but not outside of it unless with Asa.”

  The young man rapped his knuckles against the desk as Chief Ata refilled his cup with tea. It did not go unnoticed.

  “That sounds good. I was about to ask for permission to help out in the greenhouse, but I’m glad you’re fine with me helping around. I'll arrange some time with Ren.”

  Morus thought about his situation, and decided that making more friends wouldn’t hurt. And since his body was going to gradually recover, he should make up for it with physical exercise.

  “On another note.” The young man continued. “If you don’t mind, my sister and I are interested in doing drills with Gad, as well as spending time with Ban.”

  To that, the Chief nodded in approval.

  “If the young ones agree to it, then you have my permission.” Ata moved back into a normal sitting position, his hands resting on the desk. “What about the mystic then?”

  Morus took his time organizing his thoughts, he had already decided what to say and what not to say, but was going over his speech in his head to ensure nothing slipped.

  “She’s a mysterious and powerful woman. Appearing out of nowhere and disappearing into thin air.”

  The young man grinned.

  “Asa and Ban seemed reluctant to go there.” He paused. “Bad blood?”

  “To put it lightly. Yes.” Chief Ata sighed and leaned back into his chair. “We all believe the mystics are the reason why whatever happened to us, happened. But that is a story for another day.”

  This time, it was Morus’ turn to ask questions.

  “I’m curious, but if you don’t want to tell, you don’t have to. The mystic. What is she? What are they?”

  Chief Ata just shrugged, “Your guess is as good as mine. They claim themselves messengers of Fate. Some would categorize them as deities.”

  Morus nodded.

  “Do you believe in them?”

  “The mystics or the deities?”

  “Deities.”

  Staring straight into the young man’s eyes, Ata realizes that the young man was genuinely just curious, didn’t mean anything by what he asked, or even recognize the meaning behind what he just asked.

  “That’s a dangerous question, young man. To answer your question. I don’t belong to any religion. And you?”

  Alarm bells rung in Morus’ head.

  What did he mean by a dangerous question?

  Is religion a sensitive topic around these parts?

  Well, it was kinda sensitive in the world he was in, but people were still open to discussion, no?

  “It’s complicated. I believe in the ones who make a positive impact on people’s lives. Maybe not belief in their religion per se, just the actions that aim for the betterment of lives.”

  Chief Ata dazed as if struck by something, then he laughed. A full guffaw lasting half a minute.

  Morus just watched confusedly and waited for Chief Ata to settle down.

  “That’s amazing!” He wiped off the joyful tears by his eyes, “That’s a wonderful way of looking at things. Well now, I’m going to work in my forge. Feel free to join!”

  The old man shoo’d Morus out of his office. All the while smiling at the young man who got the hint.

  Closing the door behind Morus and locking it, he sat back in his seat, smiling into the air.

  He felt a bolt of inspiration hitting him, inspiration that he thought had long dried up in his old bones.

  From that inspiration, he would give it a body and a soul, tempered through fire and a secret technique that belonged only to him.

  When they depart, he would gift it to the young man.

  But first.

  Chief Ata turned a knob on one of his desk drawers.

  A mechanical click.

  The space behind where Morus sat, a large section of the floor started moving apart, revealing darkness from below as the gears continued moving.

  It didn’t take long for the grinding of gears to stop.

  A large table that occupied a major portion of the once empty space surfaced itself from the darkness below.

  The table contained a giant sandbox filled with irregular dirt mounds. Patches of blue here and there.

  A large plot of forestland against one side of the sandbox. A singular line split the massive forest apart, and in the smaller forest, a giant tree stood.

  On the opposite side of the forestland, dirt mounds covered in white. On one of the tallest mounds, a structure that resembled the Parthenon rested on the peaks. Several smaller ones on the peaks around it.

  Chief Ata’s eyes looked towards one end of the forestland, the part away from the giant tree. A mountain range almost bordering the forest. From this point of view, one would say that the mountain range looked quite like a sword, the pointy end extending some distance into a thin blue patch that surrounded the entire sandbox.

  A longing look in Chief Ata’s eyes.

  “My lord… Please wait for your loyal servants. We will leave for home soon.”