The Village was beautiful, too beautiful these days, or at least, a certain part of it was. Ian scratched his chin as he lay down in his hammock, a straw of wheat in his mouth. He didn't know why he liked to put it there; it was just something he had seen his father do, so he copied it.
It didn't feel like anything, and was even slightly annoying, but it... worked, somehow. Nowadays, it feels odd if it isn't there while he's resting in his hammock.
It was a nice place, covered by enough shade, and a simple spell would ensure it got enough wind, a comfortable amount of wind.
These days, the village was serene. The new kid had completely transformed the Church, which was something Ian was glad to see, if he was being honest. Whilst the rest of the village was orderly and neat, something he had spent quite an effort on doing so, the church was always the odd thing out.
Igimo wasn't focused on maintaining the church as well as other priests, but alas, Ian had little say in it; he couldn't directly go against a High Priest of the Church of the Beast, even with his status.
Igimo was also his mentor, so it was difficult trying to convince him otherwise; however, the new kid, a so-called clean freak, had changed the entire church. The change was so good that even Igimo had praised him and actually requested him to take a carriage to the city the next day, hoping to buy paint.
It was nice, the only flaw in the village was being fixed, and even upgraded, and he could rest in his trusty old hammock, enjoying the breeze and the scent of the forest it carried with it. Life was good.
Life was good.
"UNCLE!"
'Life is not good...'
Ian sighed as he pretended to be asleep. A young boy of the wolf clan approached him, a sword at his waist, his most prized treasure.
The boy, Ian's nephew, looked at his uncle pretending to be asleep and clicked his tongue.
"I know you're awake."
He snatched the grain of wheat from Ian's mouth and threw it on the ground. Ian sighed and opened his eyes, looking at his nephew, Ilika, with a bit of annoyance.
"Now, why'd you have to do that? That was a perfectly good wheat grain."
"Why do you even put that in your mouth? Who even does that?"
"Careful, brat, you're disrespecting your grandpa."
"... Sorry."
The boy apologized quickly, unwilling to provoke his uncle further. Ilika was Ian's nephew, the son of his sister, who was a merchant in the big city of Miniac. Along with her husband, she ran a few stores in Miniac. They were pretty well-off. Ilika wasn't someone from the village, and he had the stubborn and somewhat classist mindset of the people of Miniac.
To them, either you were from Miniac, a Miniacan, or you were not. Ilika was well-educated, far above the average village youth in almost all matters, and that was why he was not well-liked in the village.
It wasn't as if they hated him because he was from Miniac, but because he couldn't shut up about it. Otherwise, the villagers would be very friendly, considering his relationship with Ian and Igimo.
Ilika comes to the village only for a single reason... and it was to learn from Igimo and Ian. He had a desire to be part of the Beastly Aris, so wasn't it best to learn from two who were formerly part of that legendary order? Especially more so if they were related to him. He wasn't born with a golden spoon in his mouth, but the spoon was sufficiently shiny.
He wished to learn fighting from Ian, and magic from Igimo, and to a certain extent, he had done so, however, only from Ian. Igimo was a tough nut to crack, and Ilika was deathly afraid of the priest. It was because Igimo used to whack him with a wind whip when he was young, if he made a mistake in class.
Ilika's hero was Ian, and a close second was Igimo, his former religious teacher.
The only thing he did near the Church was train his swordsmanship, in hopes that Igimo would teach him some magic, or anything really.
Ian, courtesy of his sister, did teach his nephew some things, but only the basics of knowledge. He only gave him advice and didn't do much to 'train' him. It wasn't because he wasn't fond of the kid, but because he believed he was unfit to train someone, and that he should learn by himself, as Ian did.
Unfortunately for Ilika, he wasn't born with Ian's robust physique that even shocked a bearman, nor was he gifted with the blade; regardless, he did try his best to learn.
"It's time for class, you're supposed to teach me swordsmanship!"
"Who said so?"
"YOU DID! Yesterday, at three!"
"I did?"
"YES!"
"Haaa..."
Ian let out a large sigh and stared at the sword hanging at his nephew's waist. Flicking his finger, he used magic to bring it to him. Ilika was startled, but ultimately didn't do anything to stop it. He wanted to show his uncle his new blade.
Ian unsheathed it and examined the sword. Ilika sang praises.
"I bought that for fifteen Alapiri, from one of the greatest smiths in the city. I'm going to use it to split the skies like the warriors from the legends?"
"Hmmm..."
Ian grunted. It was a normal sword, perhaps a bit ornamental. As for whether it could cut, it was highly unlikely. The edge was dull, purposefully. The sword was tough. It had great durability. While it was unsuitable for battle, it was perfect for training.
It was good for Ilika, who knew nothing of swordsmanship at this point in time. Very good, actually.
"It won't cut anything, but it's good as a training sword."
As Ian examined the blade further, Ilika noticed a handsome blonde carrying a log walk by. He was quite far, but it was incredibly difficult to not notice someone like Ethan, especially for Ilika, who knew all of the villagers.
He knew who Ethan was and asked with disdain.
"Aren't you worried that guy will do something? A foreigner is never a good sign."
Ian looked over, and chuckled.