The morning sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting warm golden streaks across the hills beyond Pompom Village. Birds chirped lazily, and the scent of fresh lumber and dust lingered in the air as Vaidya rolled up his sleeves. A group of workers were already setting up scaffolding and organizing planks beside the partially-built barns at the village's edge.
"You sure you're ready for this?" one of the older workers asked, handing Vaidya a hammer. His sun-weathered face was skeptical but not unkind, the type of man who had spent more years building than Vaidya had been alive.
Vaidya caught the hammer with ease and twirled it once between his fingers. "If I can dodge magical attacks," he said with a light smirk, "I think I can handle a few nails."
The workers chuckled, though one or two gave him the kind of look reserved for cocky newcomers. Vaidya didn't mind. He wasn't here to impress anyone—he was here to help.
The work wasn't glamorous. No battles of magic, no daring rescues, just the rhythmic sound of hammers hitting wood, saws slicing through planks, and the occasional grunt of effort. But there was something grounding about it—something reassuring in the simplicity. Each board secured, each nail driven, was a small victory against the chaos that had shaken the village only days ago.
Vaidya threw himself into the labor with quiet determination. His shirt stuck to his back from the heat, and sweat beaded along his temple, sliding down his face in salty trails. He barely noticed the splinters biting into his palms, the weight of the hammer in his hand, or the stiffness growing in his arms. His mind kept drifting, somewhere far away.
He thought of Phill. Of how terrified the boy had been, clutching at him in the woods. Of how close they had come to losing him.
He hammered harder, the wood groaning under each blow.
Was Phill all right now? Was he laughing with Razille? Sleeping? Eating? Trying to pick someone's pocket again?
Vaidya shook his head, a half-smile tugging at his mouth despite himself. Phill was a handful, no doubt about it. But he was also a kid who needed them. Needed someone to believe in him, to protect him.
"You're driving that poor board into the ground," a voice teased.
Vaidya blinked, realizing he had been hammering long after the nail had vanished into the plank. He offered an apologetic shrug to one of the builders, who only laughed and clapped him on the back.
"Better too strong than too weak, lad."
They moved on to the next frame, hoisting a beam together with grunts of effort and a lot of sweat.
---
A few miles out from Pompom, Ada ducked through a low-lying branch, eyes focused on the clearing ahead. Her task had taken her further into the forests bordering the southern path—a bandit group had been spotted loitering near the trade routes.
The job hadn't taken long. She had outmaneuvered the three disorganized thugs who were barely more than opportunistic thieves. They now sat bound and groaning beneath a tree, muttering curses as Ada wrote her report on a small parchment.
"You guys should find a better hobby," she muttered, rolling her shoulders before heading back.
The walk back was peaceful. The wind was crisp, and the forest held a quiet rhythm. But as she neared the outskirts of the village, a flash of pale blue caught her eye.
An Aegle girl.
Slender, with pointed ears and regal posture, she stood with ease in the open space ahead. Her armor glinted, soft green and silver metals woven into a beautiful and functional design. Ada blinked, surprised by her presence, before another voice called out.
"Hey Ada!" Razille waved from a bench near the stables.
Ada jogged over, eyes flicking between Razille and the newcomer.
"Hey, how's your babysitting going, Raz?"
Razille grinned. "Just fine. I have to say... Phill is a good kid. Aside from his kleptomaniac habits. I swear he's taken three of my quills and a pouch of spices already."
Ada chuckled, then jerked her thumb toward the Aegle. "And who's your friend?"
"Not just a friend," Razille said, lowering her voice. "She's not an ordinary Aegle either. That's Captain Larielle. She's a Postknight. She's is the one who I send that letter."
Ada blinked. "Wait... I thought Postknights only existed in Prism Kingdom."
Razille looked toward Larielle, who stood patiently a short distance away, observing them.
"Well, Sagacia's Aegles are more welcoming than those from Quivitol. They're gradually accepting us humans—leaving behind the scars of the 13-Year War. Larielle's division is proof of that."
Ada glanced back at the captain, curiosity blooming.
"Interesting. Didn't think we'd ever see something like that."
Just then, Vaidya returned from the far path, his shirt damp from labor and sleeves rolled halfway up his arms. His steps slowed as he caught sight of the unfamiliar Aegle.
"Who's that?" he asked, eyeing the new face cautiously.
"Captain Larielle," Razille repeated. "She's from Sagacia. She wanted to meet me."
Vaidya frowned, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "Didn't think Aegles outside of Prism cared much for Postknights."
"Times are changing," Razille said softly.
As if noticing their collective attention, Larielle turned and approached. Her strides were confident and elegant. When she stopped before them, she offered a shallow bow.
"My name is Larielle," she said with a smooth, practiced tone. "Rank A Postknight of the Sagacian Postknight Division. I would like to speak with Razille. Plus I would like to talk to the village leader here too."
The air shifted.
Ada and Vaidya exchanged a glance.
Razille nodded, her expression unreadable.
"Of course," she said. "Let's talk."