The village was everything he could ever wish for. Peace and quiet. Some would say it a grand jape for a dubbed knight to envy the mundane lives of farmers and peasants, and yet Viron always thought his own life was nothing more than a bad gods' joke.
Besides, he had visited quite a few villages across Oizen and Kakunia in his youth, and he had to say, this one felt a bit different, stranger, even, than tall he others.
"Where the prince lays stone, the trees go weeping." That was what the smallfolk said along the roads of Yarzat, and as soon as he had crossed away from Oizen, the proverb had proven itself half true. He had been completely unmolested on the road, nor had he encountered a single sign of banditry or pillaging.
