The wooden beams overhead bore the marks of age, their polished surfaces reflecting the flickering lantern light, casting warm, shifting shadows along the stone walls. The scent of fresh bread intertwined with the herbal notes of steeping tea, wrapping the hall in a soothing embrace. The tables, though simple in design, were adorned with handwoven cloths, their subtle embroidery telling stories of this town’s traditions.

  The townsfolk sat in easy companionship, their voices weaving together in a symphony of everyday life—gentle laughter, the clinking of ceramic cups, the rustle of fabric as elders gestured animatedly in their discussions. A few villagers stood near the large hearth, where a pot of stew bubbled slowly, its rich aroma hinting at a meal shared by many.

  At the heart of it all, the children’s laughter rang out like the purest melody, their small hands reaching excitedly toward the woman in the cream-colored cloak. Her black hair, catching the lantern light, shimmered with an almost celestial luster, making her presence feel both familiar and enigmatic. She bent slightly, a soft smile gracing her lips, as she listened intently to the eager voices around her. The warmth of her expression mirrored the welcoming glow that filled the hall.

  “Come on, Miss Silver!” one of the children exclaimed, tugging at her hand,

  “Tell us more!”

  The woman—Lady Silver, I presumed—laughed gently, the sound as light and warm as the sun breaking through clouds. Her radiant orange eyes, like the vibrant hues of dawn, sparkled with a kindness that was captivating. Her presence exuded a quiet elegance that seemed at odds with the simple village setting, yet she blended effortlessly into the warmth of the community.

  Otome leaned into me slightly, her voice low.

  “Doesn’t seem like she’s actually from here.”

  “Definitely not,” I murmured back,

  “Who do you think she is?”

  Otome pondered my question for a second, closing her eyes as did so.

  “...She’s like a painting—disconnected and distant.”

  ‘And what does that mean, exactly?’

  But I was too embarrassed to ask, for I would expose that I had no sense for sophistry at all.

  Catching wind of our lowered chatter, Lady Silver’s gaze shifted toward us. Her smile softened, and she held up a hand to calm the children clamoring for her attention.

  “All right, little ones,” she said gently, her voice soothing yet firm,

  “Why don’t you all go outside and play for a while? There’s guests for me to greet~”

  “But I want to hear more stories!”

  “C’mon, Lucius, she said we have to go! Let’s go find Nanny Miranda!”

  “Okay!”

  The children, who were initially groaning in protest, flipped like a switch, darting out of the hall in a flurry of giggles and playful shoves. Once the room had quieted, Silver turned her full attention to us, her eyes briefly sweeping over Otome, a look of concern replacing her face,

  “You’re injured. Follow me.”

  She began to lead us down to a room in the town hall,

  “I’ve never seen the two of you in this town before. Are you travelers?”

  I quickly recited the fabricated story I’d decided upon while we were on our way here,

  “Yes, me and my sister were traveling when we ran into some bandit’s camp.”

  Silver stood still in silence for a moment, but nodded with a welcoming look in the end.

  “...Then, you must’ve had quite the ordeal. Don’t worry—I can assure you that you’re safe here.”

  She resumed her walk towards a door at the far end of the hall, her black hair catching the soft light as it shifted with her movements. Otome and I exchanged a quick glance. I gave her a subtle wink, as if to affirm to her that Silver had been none the wiser to our deception. Otome nodded faintly, smiling at me.

  The room Silver had led us to looked like a cabin room: modest and cozy, with a wooden table, a few chairs, and a cabinet lined with jars and vials. A basin of water and clean pieces of cloth were neatly set to one side. She gestured for Otome to sit on one of the chairs while she retrieved a pair of gloves, which were likely imported from an Entwick country, from the cabinet.

  “Bandits, were they?”, Silver repeated as she slipped both of her gloves on methodically.

  “Yes,” I replied smoothly, stepping forward to assist Otome as she eased herself down into the chair,

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  “Of course, we tried to fend them off, but one of them managed to land a lucky hit on her.”

  Otome glanced at me but chose not to add anything further, letting me handle the explanation.

  “Well, it must be fate that you both made it here in one piece. The roads near the border can be treacherous, especially at dusk.”

  “Are you this town’s resident doctor?” Otome, who couldn’t help but be a bit curious about this woman, Silver, asked.

  “I do what I can for the people here,” she replied; neither an affirmation nor a denial. Her gaze briefly met Otome’s before returning to her work,

  “The March of Luminastra and its residents pride themselves on the hospitality here, but times have been tough, even for us. You’re lucky to have arrived when you did.”

  “Why is that?” I asked, folding my arms as I studied her.

  Silver’s faint smile lingered, commenting,

  “Miss Elysia, the lady of this march, is visiting the town tomorrow—she rarely makes public appearances ever since the time she vanished for a month… Her presence always lifts the spirits of the people. I hope you’ll be around to see her.”

  I picked up on Silver’s mention of the lady of the Luminastra family,

  “She disappeared for a month?” I asked, keeping my annunciation casual, despite being somewhat interested in her case.

  “Yes, though no one really knows where she’d gone during that time,” She replied, lowering her voice,

  “The Marquess and Marchioness have kept the details secret. But, ever since then, her ladyship has seldom left her estate; tomorrow’s visit is… rare, to say the least.”

  She knelt beside Otome and carefully unwrapped the makeshift bandages. The faint scent of herbs lingered in the air as she examined the wound, and her practiced hands remained steady despite the severity of the injury.

  “...Rectus femoris and vastus medialis both sustained deep lacerations,” Silver whispered softly, analyzing the gash on Otome’s leg,

  “I can’t believe you managed to get all the way over here… the wound is pretty bad, but not irreparable.”

  Otome grimaced as Silver gently pressed the wound, her brow creasing,

  “It’s fine—the bleeding has ceased on its own. However, without treatment, this could have led to an infection… or worse.”

  “I’ll be fine, y-you should just patch it up a little,” Otome said, though the pain in her voice betrayed her bravado.

  Silver’s lips tightened into a determined line,

  “Perhaps that is the case, but you shouldn’t let this continue—a pretty lady like you shouldn’t have scars.”

  Otome embarrassedly scratched her face,

  “Hehe… Is that so?”

  “Alright, hold still. What I’m about to do may feel unnatural, but I’ll do my best to make it painless,” she looked at the both of us—

  “You may ask questions during the process, but it’ll take me a little to respond; this takes some concentration.”

  Without waiting for us, Silver raised her hand, her palm glowing with a soft, radiant light. The air seemed to hum with energy, a soothing warmth that wrapped around us like a protective cocoon. She pressed her glowing hand inwards against Otome’s thigh, directly over her injury.

  I watched in silent awe as fine, golden strands of light wove through the torn muscle fibers, intertwining them like threads in a web of intricate tapestry. Silver’s orange eyes glowed faintly, their brilliance reminiscent of a dawn breaking through the horizon. Her focus was unwavering. Slowly, the muscle began to reattach, knitting itself together in an almost hypnotic motion.

  Otome’s breathing hitched, her wide eyes fixed on the mending wound. “What… what are you doing?” she asked, her voice caught between amazement and disbelief.

  “I’m guiding the body’s natural healing process, accelerating it to restore function and structure. The muscles are reattaching, and the skin will regenerate shortly. You’ll need rest for a full recovery, but you’ll be walking again soon.”

  Then, Silver began rhythmic movements of the same cycle of threading and reattachment. I was so busy watching each of her actions that I didn’t even notice the passing of time.

  ‘How fascinating…’, I exclaimed in my mind. Seeing Lady Silver perform magic, a self-deprecating thought had crept itself out from the back into my mind,

  Why can’t some others—why can’t I use Sethnine? A-are we simply not gifted..?’

  I knew the end of the road for most people utilizing technology as an alternative: Stagnation. From what I’ve heard, it’s described as an “insurmountable aptitude barrier”—the kind where, if you did not have particular traits, advancing further was nigh impossible.

  It wasn’t much different from a Sorcera’s attunement with Sethnine on paper, but to me, sorceras had a much less definitive requirements; they could simply apply themselves using their abilities, and through time, they would feel the sensation of the bottleneck subside, allowing them to push to a higher power.

  ‘I just hope my search isn’t limited by that…’

  The glowing of Silver’s light had dimming whisked me away from my thoughts. I looked at Otome’s wound, which was no longer a gaping tear. Instead, all that was left was a faint mark; fresh, yet seemingly ages old.

  Silver sat back with a quiet sigh. Even though she seemed to be hiding her fatigue, I could see beads of sweat trickling down her neck.

  Otome flexed her leg cautiously, her disbelief written across her face. “I… I can’t believe it. You fixed it so fast…”

  “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Silver interrupted,

  “But the internal tissue needs time to strengthen, even if it feels fine now. Walking is possible, but avoid running or carrying anything heavy for at least a day,” she calmly instructed.

  Otome glanced at Silver, her fingers brushing over the now-healed area. “You’ve got impressive medical skills,” she said, aiming to lighten the mood. “I’ve never seen someone as talented as you.”

  Silver stood, brushing her hands against her cloak as she shook her head at Otome,

  “I did only what was necessary; this is nothing in comparison to the more experienced sorceras out there. You should both stay and rest a while longer before continuing on your journey. I’ll bring some food and water shortly.”

  Without another word, Silver left the room, her presence as composed and efficient as her actions had been.

  “I definitely owe her one,” Otome said, her voice quieter now as she carefully extended her leg.

  “We should buy some food and supplies and then head back to everyone else soon,” I suggested.

  “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”