Relief flooded Edmund's chest, easing the tension in his shoulders. He exhaled slowly, then asked, "Can't we open a store with the money left behind and settle down?"
Faera's gaze darkened with resolve. "If the person who killed our family knew about our existence and fixed location, we would undoubtedly be targeted."
He paused, the weight of truth settling between them.
"That is why I did not choose this option, even though I thought about it. This will also slow down our progress as magicians, delaying our revenge!"
A cold light flashed through his eyes as he added, "But if we become Hunters, it will not be difficult for us to obtain resources by killing monsters and hunting the wanted."
His voice lowered, deliberate. "This will also give us the freedom to change our places as we want, which will give us the opportunity to venture out and search for resources on our own."
Edmund's smile was faint but genuine. "As usual, brother, you are a genius."
The strong air stirred his long hair slightly, framing his youthful face in a wild cascade of midnight strands.
Faera returned the smile, a brief flicker of warmth amid the cold wind. "The trip to Halera City will take about two days."
He shifted, recalling the details from memory. "We are already heading there according to my memory of the map of the kingdom."
He glanced at Edmund, nodding. "So every three hours, we will go down to the ground and rest our minds for a bit."
Edmund raised an eyebrow, curious.
"The consumption of the Firebird Wings spell is not high," Faera explained, "but repeated consumption is tiring for the mind."
He gave a warning tone. "So we need to rest and not overburden our minds."
Edmund nodded slightly, acceptance settling in. The steady rhythm of their flight resumed, swift and silent.
The two talked here and there, voices weaving between the rush of wind. They shared memories, hopes, and the occasional joke, lightening the weight of the long journey ahead.
Time stretched and folded until the sky began to shift hues.
---
After three hours had passed, the two descended to the ground near a small village nestled among the trees.
The village was quiet, its wooden houses clustered haphazardly, smoke curling from chimneys into the crisp air.
"Let's go and get some food and drinking water for our journey," Faera said, already moving toward the village.
The scent of pine and earth filled the air as they moved quietly through the trees surrounding the small settlement.
Their footsteps were soft, careful not to disturb the stillness.
At last, they reached the large village gate, weathered and sturdy, flanked by two guards carrying spears.
The guards' eyes narrowed as they spotted the two young men approaching. The aura of powerful magicians radiated from Faera and Edmund, sharp and undeniable.
Without hesitation, the guards raised their spears and demanded in clear, loud voices, "What is your goal in coming to our village?"
Edmund and Faera exchanged a glance, tension tightening their shoulders.
Faera stepped forward, his voice calm but firm, "We seek provisions for our journey. No harm will come to your village."
The guards hesitated, their grips tightening on their weapons as they assessed the strangers.
'We cannot afford hostility, not now,' Faera thought, steadying himself.
"Show us your purpose," one guard insisted, eyes flickering with suspicion.
Edmund, feeling the weight of their scrutiny, spoke quietly, "We are travelers, passing through. We mean no trouble."
The village gate remained closed, the air thick with caution.
A soft breeze rustled the leaves overhead as the two brothers waited, hoping their words would ease the tension.
Behind the guards, the villagers peeked from windows and doorways, curiosity and wariness mixed on their faces.
Faera's mind raced, considering how best to prove their peaceful intent.
'We must be careful,' he thought, 'lest this small village becomes a barrier rather than a haven.'
The guards lowered their spears slightly but did not step aside.
"Follow us," one said after a moment, "but any sign of trouble, and you will regret it."
Faera and Edmund nodded, falling into step behind the guards.
As they moved deeper into the village, the brothers took note of their surroundings.
The village was humble but well-kept, with gardens blooming modestly and children's laughter faint in the distance.
The scent of freshly baked bread drifted from a nearby oven, mingling with the crispness of the forest air.
'A peaceful place,' Edmund whispered under his breath, 'for now.'
Faera's eyes remained vigilant, scanning for any signs of danger or deception.
Their journey was far from over, but for this brief moment, the village offered a sliver of respite.
---
As they moved, Faera calmly raised his head, signaling them to look. His voice was even, measured, carrying a quiet authority that cut through the tension like a blade.
"Why are things tense around here?," he said, meeting the guards' wary gazes without flinching.
The two guards exchanged glances, their knuckles whitened around their spears, but slowly they relaxed. Still, the spears remained firmly in their grip.
One of the guards let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for some time.
"Recently, rumors have spread," he said, voice low and cautious, "about a crazy mage wandering these parts. Have you met him in the forest?"
Faera shook his head, his expression calm but resolute. "We have never met anyone like that. Just monsters."
He paused, then added, "I understand the importance of protecting the village. If you could please lower your weapons, we mean no harm."
Magicians were rare among ordinary folk, and the stories told in hushed voices painted them as terrifying and immensely powerful. Yet, some villagers would face even the most dangerous magicians to defend their homes and loved ones. It was an act of desperation, almost suicidal, but it spoke to their fierce loyalty.
The guards studied Faera and Edmund for a long moment. There was sincerity in their eyes, a truth that could not be easily faked. These were not wanderers seeking to bring ruin.
Besides, if harm were their intent, no mere village guards would stand a chance.
Finally, the two guards nodded in silent agreement and lowered their weapons.
"Come in," the guard on the left said, voice gruff but less hostile. "And I hope you protect our simple village if that crazy mage comes here."
The words hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the unease that clung to this place like a second skin.
The brothers nodded quietly. They stepped more into the village, their footsteps muffled by the uneven dirt road.
Above them, the balconies and windows of houses were alive with watchful eyes. Villagers peered out, their faces a mixture of suspicion and curiosity, some pressing closer to catch every detail.
Edmund leaned toward Faera, voice low and almost a whisper. "They do not seem to like strangers in these parts."
Faera nodded, his gaze steady as he scanned the surroundings.
"They consider the things they do not know to be a threat to their existence," he explained softly. "There is always anxiety and fear when something new arrives or is seen for the first time."
He glanced at the faces watching from above, noting the tight lips and furrowed brows.
"In a small village like this, the presence of magi is extremely rare. That alone breeds fear."
Edmund absorbed the observation, nodding slowly. "Your insight and understanding, as usual, are wonderful, brother."
Though close in age, their experiences had shaped them differently.
Faera had spent years wandering the surrounding villages on Lord Hyde's estate, learning the rhythms of village life. He had seen their customs, heard their stories, and understood the delicate balance of trust and suspicion that governed them.
Edmund, on the other hand, had devoted most of his time to physical training and poring over countless books. His knowledge was vast but often abstract, much less grounded in the messy reality of village life.
Still, his mind was sharp and creative, always searching for new angles and possibilities.
Together, they made a balanced whole, Faera the steady observer, Edmund the imaginative strategist.
As they moved toward where the village market should have been, the atmosphere grew heavier.
The roads were oddly empty, silent but for the distant crow of a rooster and the faint rustling of leaves.
It was a place usually bustling with children, and laughter. Now, it felt like the village was holding its breath, waiting for something unseen.
The wooden stalls, under the houses, worn by seasons of rain and sun, stood deserted. A stray dog nosed through a pile of discarded vegetables, its ribs showing beneath patchy fur.
Faera's eyes flicked around, noting every detail, the chipped paint on a sign, the faded banners fluttering limply, the wary glances from shadowed doorways.
He could feel the weight of the villagers' fear pressing down, like a thick fog that clouded their thoughts.
Edmund broke the silence again, voice low and thoughtful. "This place feels like it's waiting for a storm."
Faera's lips pressed into a thin line. "It is."
He was not just talking about the recent rumors of the insane mage.
No, something deeper stirred beneath the surface, a growing unease that whispered of coming darkness.
For now, they had to focus on the immediate.
"Let's find what we need quickly," Faera said. "And keep our senses sharp."
Edmund gave a small nod, his hands resting on the hilts of the twin daggers at his belt.
Together, they began to weave through the narrow lanes, the eyes upon them never wavering.
'Trust will have to be earned,' Faera thought, 'but first, we must survive the watchful shadows of this village.'