"I don't know either."
Seeing Elante's disdainful gaze, Aiven embarrassingly touched his nose, feeling that he had damaged the wise and mighty image he had in the young man's heart.
"I only know her name, the little girl who stayed at the manor for a night last time. Her home is here."
"Oh, is that so? Tom, you're more familiar with the countryside. Go and call the village chief." Elante scratched his head too, realizing wandering aimlessly wasn't a solution, so they could only ask someone for directions.
"Sure, young master Elante."
Before long, the servant Tom led over a middle-aged man, noticeably dressed more neatly and cleanly than the villagers, even somewhat respectable, running all the way.
"Good afternoon, honorable gentlemen! Welcome to our Mog Farm, is there any assistance I can provide?"
